There Won't Be Trumpets
by Corkrose
Summary: What would happen if Gil didn't propose to Anne, but decided to learn more about her instead? An AU romance in which Anne and Gilbert learn how to love each other better, despite the obstacles in their way!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Oh, Gil, we haven't gone down this one yet!" she pulled his hand toward one of the few Kingsport alleys they hadn't yet explored.

"Anne, as much as I would love to discover this with you, I need to get to the city library before it closes or I'll have to pay a fine."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on! Where's your sense of adventure?" At his impatient look, she turned toward him, her hand still clutching his. "Okay, let's make a deal. If we don't make it to the library in time, I'll pay your fine."

His mouth widened into a smile, and he squeezed her hand. " You've got a deal, Shirley."

The alley was dark and run down. Gilbert grimaced at a small rat he saw crawl into a gap in the bricks of a building. He didn't like this part of town. A riot had broken out at the pub one block over when he had gone to the haberdasher's last week, and while he wasn't afraid to venture to this part of town, his stomach churned at the idea of getting caught in a bad situation with Anne close to sundown.

They passed a small shed to find three men sitting on the steps behind the butcher's shop. They wore long, bloody aprons and were gathered around where one man was rolling tobacco into a cigarette. At the sight of them, he pulled Anne a little closer to him.

"I can't get this damn thing to stay together!" he heard one of them say.

He tried to pull Anne away before the men noticed them but felt her slip through his grasp. "Perhaps, I could be of help, gentlemen."

He looked back in horror to see Anne approaching the three men. They laughed loudly as Anne, dressed in her prim blue dress, came to stand in front of them.

"Anne," he muttered under her breath, but she didn't turn around.

"May I see your tobacco, sir?" she asked with a hint of defiance in her voice.

The man chuckled but handed her a wood board with the tobacco and papers. "Go right ahead, Miss."

Gilbert watched in awe as Anne sat on the bottom step and deftly wrapped a perfectly formed cigarette without missing a beat. After a moment, she held up the finished product with her nose held high and handed it to the man.

His eyes widened for a moment and looked from her to his friends before they all burst into laughter.

The man slapped his hand on his knee. "Well, I'll be damned if this little lady can roll a cigarette better than any man I've ever met!"

Anne looked back at Gilbert, who was staring at her in utter surprise, and winked at him. Before he could say anything, she turned back to the three men. "Two more, I presume?"

The other two men managed to say yes between their chuckles, and Anne quickly rolled two more perfect cigarettes.

As she handed the other two men their cigarettes, the first man spoke, "Would you like a cigarette yourself, Miss?"

She tipped her chin up a bit more and gave him an arch look. "No, thank you. I don't smoke."

He guffawed before continuing. "Well, you don't smoke, but do you dance?"

At this, Gilbert rushed to her side and grabbed her elbow. "No, she doesn't."

She looked at Gilbert in surprise for a moment before addressing the man in front of her. "So sorry, gentlemen, but we must be off."

Gilbert pulled Anne with him down the alleyway, picking up his pace until he was moving at a near sprint. They rounded the corner and collapsed against a wall. He turned to her when she started giggling. "We didn't need to run, Gil. They wouldn't have done anything."

He ran a hand through his hair. She was impossible—but so delightfully so. "Anne, that guy was making a move on you."

She rolled her eyes with a smile and turned her body against the wall to face him. "Oh, Gil, he may have underestimated me, but I could tell from his kind eyes. He was a gentleman! He could accept a polite rejection."

He turned to face her and looked at her imploringly. "Okay, well, as someone who doesn't have your keen powers of perception, can you please stay away from strange men who are giving you the eye? It would kill me if anything happened to you."

She smiled at him tenderly, and his heart gave a flutter. "I always do when I'm alone, but I know that nothing bad can happen to me when I have my rather strong best friend to protect me."

He beamed at her and, placing her arm in the crook of his elbow, began to walk back toward campus—the library was quite closed now. "Thanks, Anne. I know you aren't some damsel in distress, but I just don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I know, Gil," she said softly, squeezing his arm lightly.

He looked to her with an impish grin then. "After all, what damsel in distress can roll a perfect cigarette in under 30 seconds?"

She met his gaze with a mischievous look of her own. "Well, I am a woman of mystery, Mr. Blythe. You should know this by now."

He stopped them in their tracks and turned to face her directly. "Rest assured, Miss Shirley. I am entirely aware of that fact." He unconsciously took a small step forward, and her eyes widened. "Were you a smoker in a past life that I don't know about?"

She met his challenging look assertively. "Absolutely not. Smoking is a dirty habit, but Mr. Hammond used to make me roll him five cigarettes every morning for him to smoke throughout the day. I got quite good."

He slid his hand from her elbow to her hand and grasped the other hand hanging at her side. "Anne Shirley, you are quite possibly the most interesting woman I have ever met."

Suddenly, she couldn't meet his gaze and turned away from him, loosening his grip on her right hand, and pulling him toward Patty's Place. He sighed internally as he noticed her creeping further away from his side, creating as much distance as reasonably possible between them.

As he said goodnight, he stepped back and gave a casual salute before exiting through the gate. He had loved her for four years, but now, he was positive he was mad for her. What other woman could be the perfect picture of scholastic achievement and then suddenly transition to rolling cigarettes with strange men on the street all while maintaining her optimistic, romantic sensibilities? Only Anne, he thought with a wry smile.

As he lied in bed that night, he starred at the ceiling playing over the events of the evening and the mischievous wink she gave him in his head over and over until he finally succumbed to slumber.

* * *

 _He awoke to the faint scent of lilies and the feel of sun on his face. He stretched his arms over his head and looked around. He was in a pretty, white room with a green vanity in one corner and a washstand in the other. Sheer white curtains billowed gently away from the window, outside a bright sunrise was visible over a grassy field and a big orchard. He looked to one side to find an edition of the New England Journal of Medicine on his bedside table. He moved to pick it up, but he felt something brush against his leg. He turned to see Anne sitting up and stretching her arms with a yawn._

 _She was positively radiant. The rays of light from behind the unruly curls that had slipped out of her nighttime braid shine like gold, and her eyes shown a vivid green as she blinked against the brightness of the room. She put her arms down on top of the bedspread and fell back with a flop, and his eyes widened as a strap of her chemise fell off her shoulder, exposing the lines of her collarbone._

 _She shifted and looked up at him with a blissful smile. "Good morning, darling. I'm surprised you woke up before me. You came home so late last night."_

 _He was speechless as she reached out lazily to take his hand. He noticed the rings on her finger, and his heart gave a lurch. I'm married to Anne, he thought! He took the hand he was holding a pressed a kiss to it. The feel of her soft, cool skin against his lips was exhilarating. Slowly, he began to kiss up her arm, over her collarbone, up her neck before placing a tender kiss on her lips._

 _She smiled against his lips and murmured, "Joy's still sleeping, if you want to finish what you started last night."_

 _He stopped cold and pulled away just enough to see the desire in her eyes. After a moment, he found his voice. "There's nothing I would like more."_

 _His hands trembled as they moved from her face, down her neck, to trace her collarbones, and finally down to…_

 _His eyes shot open at the knock on the door. "Gil! Are you almost ready? We're going to be late for practice!"_

 _Gilbert groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Just a minute!"_

 _His heart was still racing from another interrupted dream. He pushed back the covers and began to throw on his clothes._

 _Four of the last seven mornings, he had woken up to dreams of Anne, and when he wasn't sleeping, he often felt himself daydreaming about her anytime he was idle. While this wasn't a new phenomenon by any means, the volume and intensity of his fantasies had begun to affect his daily interactions with her._

 _He found himself finding more excuses to embrace her or unconsciously grasping her hand or letting an innocent touch linger. Even when they were debating each other, he found himself distracted by her lips as she spoke. He felt like she had begun to notice how close he was becoming. Every time he touched her she pulled away as soon as it began to linger, and when he would get distracted during their conversations, she would clear her throat and shift uncomfortably._

 _He felt like they were at a turning point. He had known for a long while that she didn't return his feelings, but he had begun to realize that she didn't not return his feelings either. Regardless, he couldn't wait in limbo any longer. He loved and cherished her friendship more than anything, but after four years, their stagnant yet steady friendship was satisfying him less and less._

 _He was not entitled to her love, but he would not—could not—remain her old school chum any longer. He was not under the impression that he was the best man in the world, but he knew he was a good man. And, he was confident there was no one in the world who love Anne more or who would work harder to make her happy._

 _As he walked out of his boarding house and into the April sunshine, he felt his resolve harden. He would show Anne the depth of his love, one way or another. He just needed to decide how._

* * *

The following day was Friday, and like most Fridays, he found himself at Patty's Place, reading in the orchard with Anne. They each sat next to each other under the thickest tree, sporting crowns Anne had made from apple blossoms. "I'll happily wear it—just as long as you don't tell any of the guys from the team," he had told her with a grin.

Gilbert rested his book against his chest and laid back, listening to the gentle rustle of the trees and the sound of Anne turning the pages of her worn copy of Emma. He could be content sitting next to her and reading every day of his life if he could. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine them reading together as a married couple.

Anne sighed and closed her book with a solid thump, prompting Gilbert to look up from his daydream with a raised eyebrow. "Another successful read-through?"

Anne blushed and nodded. "I can read this book over and over and never get tired. Mr. Knightley is positively dashing!"

He sat up with sudden interest and smirked. "I'm glad your opinion of him has changed. I always felt rather insecure when you would fawn over the Mr. Rochesters of English literature, and being a real man, who one day hopes to marry, I always felt like Mr. Knightley was a much more attainable goal for myself. Then again, I can sympathize with Mr. Darcy's brooding a bit. After all, I know what it's like to be the victim of overextended grudge."

Anne rolled her eyes but couldn't stop herself from laughing. "Oh, Gil. I've always liked Mr. Knightley. I've always thought it positively romantic how he loves Emma for years! It makes their declaration so much more touching!"

"And, is that something that you would want? A heartfelt declaration from someone who has loved you for years?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

She frowned slightly and looked at her hands. "I'm not quite sure of what I want."

His eyes widened at her admission. She caught his gaze and quickly diverted away from her vulnerability. "But, anyway, you shouldn't feel inadequate compared to any of those men, Gil! You are quite possibly the best man I have ever known, save Matthew, of course. You'll make some girl a fine husband one day."

Her tone was teasing, but his heart beat faster at her words. She saw him as a romantic hero, but just not her own. Why, he wondered.

"I hope so…" he said, looking her in the eye, "I'm not one to love half-heartedly. I know that I would devote myself heart and soul to the woman I marry."

He looked away and smirked at the irony of their conversation. "First, I just need to get my dream girl to say yes."

Anne smiled sweetly at him, her eyes not betraying how her heart skipped a beat when he spoke of his devotion to his future wife. "And, who is this dream girl?"

He burst into laughter internally. Yesterday, he had been so concerned about finding ways to show her how much he loved her and how much he would try to deserve her love. Now, opportunities were falling into his lap left and right.

"Well, she's kind and sweet, but not afraid to stick it to anyone who disrespects her. She speaks her mind and isn't afraid to disagree with me. She has to be a fundamentally good person, who isn't afraid to be a little naughty sometimes, and she has to be smart as a whip—you know I don't like talking with unintelligent people…

"I guess I would like her to be beautiful—but I have been known to have a very particular taste when it comes to looks." He looked at her with an emotionless face, pleased to see her blush.

Then, he paused for a moment to pretend like he wasn't just describing the girl in front of him. "I also think it would be nice to have a girl with romantic sensibilities—though not so romantic she couldn't fall in love with a humble country doctor."

If Anne saw the meaning in his words, she gave no indication, but her eyes lit up in indignation. "Gilbert Blythe, if I ever hear you talking about your dream like that again, I will climb into your bedroom while you sleep, cover you with honey, and open an ant farm on top of you!"

He burst into laughter suddenly. Oh, how he loved her! Just when he thought she would get bashful or turn away from him in discomfort, she threatened him with as vivid a punishment as he could think of—though the idea of her in his bedroom was not entirely unpleasant.

After a beat, she joined in, and they laughed until tears were spilling from their eyes. Once their giggles had subsided, Anne became serious again. "Jokes aside, Gil. No one in the world could look down on your dream of becoming a doctor. There is no one I know who is more passionate or works harder for such a noble dream, so stop selling yourself short. I never want to hear you talking about yourself that way again."

She looked at him with a challenge before crossing her arms and falling back against the tree. He smiled tenderly and leaned back next to her. "Alright, Anne, I won't, and you know I don't see country medicine as lesser. I'll be proud to serve all sorts of people in a rural community back on P.E.I. I just hope that the woman I marry will know me and my convictions well enough to see that as you do," he said quietly, staring at her intently.

He wanted her to look at him in that moment—to see just a glimpse of what he felt for her in that moment, but she didn't make eye contact. "I hope you find that, Gil," she said emotionlessly.

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable at the lack of emotion in her voice and sought to diffuse the tension. "Otherwise, worse comes to worse, I'll wait until Charlie gets rejected by a few more beautiful women and propose to him myself!"

At that, Anne let out a too-loud laugh and wiped her eyes again. "Oh, Gilbert, I never should have told you about that! That's so cruel!"

"It's not cruel. I think I'd make an excellent wife to Charlie! You've tasted my pies!"

She burst into laughter again and clutched his shoulder for support. "Gil, one of these days you're going to make me laugh so hard, I cough up my lung!"

He flashed her a crooked smile, "Well, hopefully I'll be there then with a medical degree to fix you back up again."

God, he thought, if I could just make her laugh everyday for the rest of our lives, I would be a happy man.

She smiled and removed her hand from his shoulder with a sigh. They didn't say anything else for a long while, sitting in a companionable silence until the sun became too dark for either of them to read anymore.

* * *

Anne lied in bed that night restlessly. The clock chimed two, and she flipped on to her other side for at least the millionth time that night. Had it really only been four hours since Gilbert had left? It seemed like hours since they had said their goodbyes, and in all that time, Anne could not get those last moments together out of her head.

The clock had struck 10, and he packed up his satchel to go, as usual. But, when she went to open the door, he stood next to her, almost cornering her against the door. His proximity had disarmed her, but for some reason she couldn't open the door or move away. She found herself frozen in his presence for a moment until he had asked, "Anne, are you going to open the door now?"

She had felt like an idiot, getting flustered in his presence. Why should she? It's just Gil, she thought. Her heart pounded against her chest, and as she watched him walk away, she had a thought that had been recurring quite frequently of late. _Is Gil is trying to be romantic?_ However, unlike the last few times she had thought it, it didn't make her feel uncomfortable. It made her feel…she wasn't sure how it made her feel.

She found herself thinking back to his words from earlier in the evening. I'm not one to love half-heartedly…She speaks her mind…She must be smart as a whip…with romantic sensibilities…

She had never given too much thought to Gilbert as a romantic suitor. She knew without a doubt that he would be a good one, but she had never given much consideration as to why he would be a good romantic suitor. She constantly dismissed it. He would never be her romantic suitor, so why should she spend time thinking about how he would be as his own romantic hero.

Gilbert was right when he said he was no Rochester, but he certainly could go head to head with Mr. Knightley. After all, he was the one who showed her what a fool she had been when it came to Diana and Fred! He could even compete with Mr. Darcy, giving up the Avonlea school for her even when they weren't friends! He was wonderful—a fact she was well aware of.

But, she had never really seen Gilbert as a romantic hero before. Of course, Darcy would never make scandalous jokes nor would Knightley proudly don an apron and bonnet in public, but that was beside the point. Before tonight, he had never told her what he wanted in a wife or gave any indication as to the kind of husband he would be. She had never seen him interested in any girl before, for that matter. The only woman he ever spent significant amounts of time with was her.

Now, they were as close as two friends could be, and she felt his proximity more than ever. It made her uncomfortable as she began to feel like there was something romantic in all the things they had been doing for years. Embraces and distracted stares felt like they meant more, and she felt angry at herself for even entertaining the idea that they could mean more.

Gilbert deserved the most wonderful woman in the world—his dream woman. She thought back to his description of his dream woman. At moments, she found herself wondering how she would compare to this imagined rubric. She was certainly intelligent, romantic, and unafraid to disagree with him; and while she liked to think of herself as fundamentally good person, she hesitated on applying that label to herself, thinking of all the vain and jealous thoughts she had accumulated over the years. Not to mention that Gilbert wanted a beautiful wife but not just beautiful—particularly beautiful. She definitely wouldn't qualify on that score.

Gilbert had always been handsome. From the moment she met him, she knew that. In fact, it had made her more than uncomfortable to be seen with such an attractive best friend early in their acquaintance. Gilbert never mentioned women's appearances, aside from the obligatory polite compliment paid at dances or special events. He was too much of a gentlemen for that. So, she grew comfortable with the fact that she was insufficiently beautiful next to him.

She grabbed her pillow and smothered her face in it in exasperation. Why was she even dwelling on this? She didn't even know what she wanted in terms of romance, and she certainly didn't—couldn't—want Gilbert. She had been reading too many romance novels of late and simply needed a change of focus. Numbers! she thought. Numbers will put me to sleep.

100…93…86…Why did he look at me when he said that?

She sighed loudly at the uninvited interruption. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh wow! I've been blown away by the response to this story so far! All of your reviews and PMs have been so kind and encouraging._

 _I realize now that my author's note was not published on the last chapter due to a formatting error, so I'll take this time to introduce myself and this story! I'm Cristina! I read all the AOGG books from ages 9 to 13. The most recent adaptation of the show on CBC caught my eye and encouraged me to get back into FF. I've written a few chapters of a separate fic for the new adaptation on Archive of our Own, but I wanted to explore the books as well after reading so many amazing fics here._

 _I work with traumatized people and often hit upwards of 80 hours a week, and decided I needed a creative outlet. So, I decided to revisit my childhood passion for creative writing. Full disclosure, I haven't done a lot of creative writing before this month, so as I'm growing and changing, I will always encourage constructive criticism._

 _Some preliminary notes on this story:_

 _\- I have this story mapped out for 10 chapters, but I also have mapped out two sequel stories at 10 and 12 sessions respectively._

 _\- Some character traits or details may conflict a bit with canon, but I'm writing Anne and Gilbert's perspectives with my own interpretation of their motivations. That may mean that some OOC moments are probably me projecting some of myself on to the characters, but one thing I like about FF is seeing all the different interpretations of characters I love!_

 _\- This story is called "There Won't Be Trumpets" after a classic jazz/Broadway standard sung by Dawn Upshaw. I highly recommend looking up this song, or just listening to her entire album I Wish It So (there are so many songs that remind me of Anne and Gilbert's relationship)._

 _\- Finally, I'm trying to keep on a one chapter a week schedule. As I mentioned, I work an ungodly amount, so I won't always be able to meet this goal; however, you might find that (like this week) I will post faster than a week because I had a particularly stressful week. :)_

 _Anyway, please reach out if you want to discuss the story! It always makes my day and helps my writing!_

* * *

Chapter Two

The following Monday found Gilbert walking down the street with a spring in his step. He had gotten the job! He had applied to be a copyeditor at _The Daily News_ two weeks ago with the hope of getting a position that would allow him to save up enough money to begin planning for life beyond Redmond. While he had little hope of actually getting the job, the thought that he could save up enough money for a ring had lodged itself into his head.

He hated the idea of not being able to spend the summer in Avonlea with Anne, but he had at least 10 days of summer with her and had already begun to brainstorm how he could show his feelings through their correspondence. They had never spent so much time apart in the entire time they knew each other, but he mused that this could work in his favor. Maybe, she would be completely bored with out him and realize how much he meant to her. _Or,_ maybe she would have a lovely summer without him and realize how insignificant he was, he thought in panic.

"Gil!"

He looked up to see Anne waving at him from the other side of the street, and his angst melted away as he crossed the street, only narrowly missing getting hit by a carriage. He saw her giggle as he awkwardly stumbled the rest of the way across the street.

She smirked as he came to stand in front of her, adjusting his clothes that had been disheveled in his near collision. "Did your parents ever teach you to look both ways before crossing the street?"

He shot her a mock glare and crossed his arms in front of him. "Not another word, Shirley. I'm too good a mood to be teased by the likes of you!"

He grinned as her eyes lit up. "And what would be the cause of this good mood, Mr. Blythe?"

"I don't know if I should tell you now, if I know you're just going to tease me!" he said, turning away from her to continue walking.

She caught up to him in a moment and punched his arm. "Come on, Gil! You know you can't keep anything from me!"

He laughed as he caught her fist and held it. _Oh, if only you knew what I keep from you_ , he thought wickedly. "Fine, I'll tell you! I got a job at _The Daily News_ for the summer!"

Her eyes lit up, and her smile was beaming. "Oh, Gil, that's amazing! What will you be doing?"

"I'll be a junior copyeditor—mainly proofreading and such—but it pays quite a bit!"

"Congrats, Gil, but…" she trailed off and looked at him with a slightly crestfallen look. "You're not going to be in Avonlea this summer?"

He nodded, taking her hand and squeezing it. "But I'll be there for the first 10 days after the end of the school year. Just long enough for us to get to all of our old haunts."

At this, her face seemed to fall further, "Yes, of course," she said with an unconvincing smile.

Her response confused him, but he couldn't help but find hope in the fact that she would miss him.

"Now, where are we off too, Miss Shirley?"

"The bakery! Stella's hosting some girls from her psychology study group tonight."

He held out his arm, "Would you care for some company?"

"Always," she said, lacing her arm through his.

* * *

Anne sat on the window seat pensively, thinking about Gilbert's news from earlier. She couldn't imagine a summer in Avonlea without him. Who else could she explore the haunted wood with or have picnics with in Hester Grey's garden? She simply couldn't imagine _not_ walking to the Blythe homestead multiple times a week or spending hours reading and writing with him in the Green Gables parlor.

For the first time, she really contemplated what would happen when they graduated and Gilbert was in medical school. Would they be able to stay in touch if they didn't see each other for months on end? Would he find a new best friend? _Would he find a wife?_

The thought sent a chill down her spine. Gilbert's friendship had been a constant in her life for four years. He was such a devoted friend that she never had to imagine a life where he wasn't the person she spent most of her free time with. She never really had any real reason to feel jealous of Gilbert's relationship to anyone. He took her to every social event. He always chose to spend time with her over anyone else, and because he had never courted anyone, there was no one who could monopolize his time.

It felt like a knife in her heart to think that someone would eventually come along who would be more important to him than her. She tried to chastise herself for her jealousy but barely managed to feel guilty.

She was pulled out of her reverie by a door slam. "Phil, is that you?"

Phil's head poked around the corner of the window seat. "Yes, indeed!" she said with a crooked smile. "Did you need anything?"

Anne sighed, "I hate to ask this, Phil. But, is there anyway that we can change the dates I come to stay in Bolingbrook?"

Phil looked a little surprised by the question but nodded casually. "Of course, Mama said she would be delighted to have you at any point over the summer. We only decided on next week because it would be cheaper for you to come directly from Kingsport."

Anne nodded emotionlessly. "Yes, okay. Could I come the first week of July?"

Phil smiled. "Oh, yes! That's the best time to come anyway—so many handsome men, traveling from out of town," she teased with a wink.

Anne giggled. "Oh, Phil, you are incorrigible! But, thank you for being so understanding!"

Phil scrutinized Anne's face. "Why the sudden change of plans, Queen Anne? It'll cost you quite a bit more to go all the way back to Avonlea before coming to visit."

Anne felt her face flush as she struggled to come up with a lie. "Marilla wrote me today, saying that she would really like me to be around the two weeks after the end of the school year to help with some chores that have been piling up around the farm."

Phil looked unconvinced but nodded. "Well, good luck with that, dear. I'll write to Mother to tell her."

Anne felt a little guilt in the pit of her stomach for lying to Phil but broke into a grin as she thought 10 days with Gilbert in Avonlea.

* * *

On Thursdays, Gilbert and Anne had Philosophy together, and as the pair had spent four years debating every conceivable subject, they often found themselves engaged in fierce intellectual combat whenever they disagreed on an issue in class. While the professor loved to have two students so dedicated to the course material, Gilbert occasionally felt like they were so passionate in their arguments that the rest of the class was intruding on a private moment.

He couldn't help but smile as her green eyes flashed at him during their most recent lecture on ethics and morality.

"What Mr. Blythe fails to understand is that a lie of omission is still a lie, even if it is done to protect someone. One is not moral simply because he is protecting someone, but he is merely protecting someone—a moral thing to do—in an immoral way. If I killed someone to protect my family; my motivations may not have been immoral, but the act of killing itself still is. One cannot simply rationalize their way out of immoral behavior by justifying it with a moral reason!" She threw him an arch smile before turning her eyes back to the front.

Gilbert's voice rang confidently throughout the lecture hall. "So, is a lie of omission the same as murder now? And, are we to simply toss the question of motivation out the window when trying to judge the morality of an act?"

Her head shot back to him, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Of course, a lie of omission is not the same as murder; however, two things can be immoral to different degrees of severity. Furthermore, motivation is not irrelevant, I am merely suggesting that good intention is not enough to cancel out the immorality of an act!"

He laughed cockily. "Are you trying to say, Miss Shirley, that it is better to tell someone a truth that may hurt them or make them uncomfortable than to hide it from them? And, what of the grey areas? What if someone doesn't explicitly say something but implies something or uses nonverbal communication?"

"Are we looking for scapegoats in moral grey areas, Mr. Blythe? A lie is a lie! And, again, motivation is not irrelevant; however, the lie is still immoral in my opinion, regardless of the greater good."

He met her imperious look with a twinkle in his eye, "I guess we will have to agree to disagree then, Miss Shirley."

Professor Hughes clapped his hands together jovially. "And, that is as good a place as any to end class. Well done, the both of you!"

Gilbert watched as Anne bowed her head at the praise. She may be haughty and arrogant in debate, but any other time, she was genuinely down to earth. He turned away and flushed when she noticed his gaze with a quizzical smile.

"Now, for your final papers," Professor Hughes continued. "You will each be assigned a parter and given an issue. One of you will be responsible for arguing its morality and the other will be responsible for arguing its immorality. You should respond to each other's arguments in the paper. Then, next week, you will present your arguments to the class."

Anne leaned over to him and whispered conspiratorially, "I pity whoever is paired with either of us."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and get paired together," he said with a wink.

Anne opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Professor Hughes. "Well, that's it for today. Come down to the front to get your assignments."

As the rest of the students walked down to the front, Gilbert remained in his seat and turned to Anne. "After today, God save me if I'm assigned the morality of lying."

Anne raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, if you continue to defend lying, Gil, I'm going to begin to think you're hiding something from me."

He laughed ironically, "Come on, Shirley, as if I could hide anything from you."

She beamed back at him and stood. "Well, shall we find out which souls we will be tormenting for the next week?"

He moved to follow her, "Lead the—"

"Gilbert Blythe!"

His eyes shot over to where a woman in lavender stood, waving at him. He sighed internally. Dorothy Connolly had frequently flirted with him at football games and Lambs events over the past two years. While Gilbert found that she was quite intelligent, every time he spoke to her, she was completely vapid. She was generally considered very pretty, but Gilbert had no time for shallow beauty.

He looked back to Anne and gave her a disappointed shrug. She waved him off, and he turned back to the bubbly woman making her way toward him.

"Let me guess. We're partners for the project," he said sardonically.

She nodded and beamed at him. "Our issue is 'stealing from the rich to give to the poor!' You will be arguing the pros, and I will argue the cons. Won't this be fun?"

Gilbert suppressed and eye roll. "I'm sure it will be," he said flatly.

He looked back to see where Anne was talking to Jeremy Palmer and felt something constrict inside of him. They lived in the same boarding house and were both Lambs. He was a nice fellow—charming, smart, ambitious, and good-looking. He saw Anne smile at Jeremy, and Gilbert felt a sudden wave of distaste for his acquaintance.

He was pulled out of his reverie when Dorothy wrapped her arm around his. "Come on, Gilbert. We must begin discussing our plans."

* * *

Anne made her way to Gilbert's boarding house that night, and for the first time, she wasn't going to see him. It felt odd to sit in his common room, waiting to discuss philosophy with a man who wasn't him.

She looked up at a familiar voice. "Anne? Did we have plans that I forgot?"

She rolled her eyes amusedly, "No, Gil. I'm here to work on the philosophy project with Jeremy."

"Ah, well as a matter of fact, Dorothy will be arriving in a few minutes to work on the same project," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps, I will sit in the table next to you and shake your confidence with my good ideas."

"Good luck with that, Gil. I don't think you've ever been able to make an argument I haven't been able to refute," she said with a challenging look.

"I refute _that_ argument!" he said finding himself now only a few inches from her face.

She flashed him a crooked smile. "Then, I guess we're both as stubborn as the other."

She felt her heart skip a beat as he leaned in a little closer and murmured. "I suppose so."

He quickly stood back as a voice dissipated the tension in the air. "Anne, I hope I haven't kept you waiting!"

Anne looked from Gilbert to Jeremy, "No, not at all. I just got here."

She heard Gilbert's voice behind her, sounding a bit strained. "Jeremy, how are you?"

"Quite well. I'm just happy my partner is first in the class. I think it my grade will rise by association," he said lightly, winking at Anne.

Anne felt herself blush. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure. Gil, here, has been giving me a run for my money all term," she turned to see Gilbert looking quite ill at ease. Unsure of his strange expression, she turned back to Jeremy. "Shall we get started?"

Jeremy nodded, and they sat down and began to take out their notes. After a while, Dorothy showed up as well, and she felt Gilbert sit down in the chair behind her, almost hyperaware of his presence. She attempted to focus on drafting her arguments and exchanging ideas with Jeremy, but Dorothy's incessant chatter behind her held Anne's attention.

Dorothy was beautiful with dark curly hair, lovely blue eyes, and a cupid's bow mouth. She was poised and elegant and came from a well-known family in Halifax. She was perfectly coy and flirtatious and absolutely smitten—just the romantic sensibilities that Gilbert described for his dream woman. Her anxieties from earlier in the week bubbled to the surface as she heard Dorothy make a particularly clever argument. Dorothy met most of the qualifications of Gilbert's dream woman, she thought with a sigh. Would Gilbert fall in love with her over the course of this project? Would he see her over the summer while they were both in Nova Scotia? Would she come back to Kingsport in the fall to find them engaged? Would she lose her best friend, then?

Suddenly, Gilbert tipped back in his chair so that his head was next to hers and whispered into her ear. "When will you be done here?"

She nearly shivered at his proximity, and turned to see his face only a couple inches from her own. "In about half an hour. Why?"

"Can I walk you home? I have a couple things I would like to ask you."

She inhaled sharply. His tone was casual, but his eyes were deep. She nodded and sat forward on her chair once more, furiously writing a response to Jeremy's argument in an attempt to ignore the beating of her heart.

Gilbert had already wrapped up with Dorothy by the time Anne and Jeremy finished. "Well, Anne, it looks like we're done here until Monday. Do you want me to walk you home?"

She smiled at him and shook her head. "No thank you, Jeremy. Gilbert already offered to walk me home." She shifted uncomfortably at his disappointed expression. "I'll see you on Monday, though," she added brightly.

He nodded with a half-hearted smile. "Of course. I'll see you then. Have a good night, Anne."

Anne watched him as he retreated up the steps, feeling as if she had just rejected him. Jeremy had been quite charming all evening, but she never considered that could be because he was _interested_ in her. She couldn't really imagine herself with anyone, let alone Jeremy, who she barely knew.

He was very pleasant, but after a couple of hours, she found that he was one of those people everybody liked because he wasn't truly passionate about anything. He had no conviction. She couldn't see him declaring his passionate love for anyone, herself included.

She turned to where Gilbert was sitting on a sofa by the fireplace, wondering how he managed to be so effortlessly likable and passionate at the same time. She went to sit next to him. "Well, I'm done now. Ready for our walk?"

He flashed her a dashing smile and helped her up. "Yes, indeed. Let me get my coat."

* * *

The spring air was cool and crisp as they walked down the street at a leisurely pace. He saw her shiver a little as a gust of cold air blew from the ocean. He moved closer to her to link his arm in hers. "So, how's the paper coming? I heard you and Jeremy coming up with some interesting arguments."

She sighed, "Oh, pretty well, I think. And, how about yourself, Mr. Blythe?"

He couldn't help but groan. He saw her give a little start in surprise and hastily explained. "The project is going just fine, but I quite honestly don't care for Dorothy's company. She can be…grating on the nerves."

He glanced at Anne, who smirked a little at this. "How so?" she asked nonchalantly.

He rolled his eyes to the heavens. "For two years, she has approached me at every football game and Lambs event, always making little uncomfortable comments about me or flirting with me. I just find her too self-absorbed to spend extended periods of time with."

He hoped that he would hear the sincerity in his voice and understand. She was staring straight ahead with a confused expression on her face. "Two years?" she mumbled.

"What?"

She looked at him imploringly. "She has been after you for two years?"

His brow furrowed, and he spoke slowly. "Um…well, I wouldn't say she's been after me, but she has been flirting with me our whole time at Redmond. You knew that, though. You were at all those Lambs events."

"Oh, I never realized she had been pursuing you before this." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

 _Because I never wanted you to think that I could ever love anyone else_ , he thought "Well, I don't know if I would say she was pursuing me, per se. I would have had to pay attention for it to be considered 'pursuing.'"

She didn't speak for a moment, and his chest constricted in fear. "Gil, you know that you don't have to go to any of these events with me if there's someone else you're interested in. I'm perfectly fine on my own," her voice was melancholy, and his heart dropped.

He sighed and smiled. "I know you are, but that was actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Her eyes widened in fear, and he realized his mistake and tried to give her a reassuring smile. "We always assume we're going to dances together, but I realized that I have taken that for granted. So, I would like to formally ask you if you would be my escort to the end of term ball because there is no one else in Kingsport who I would rather take."

She looked down and blushed, "Gil, that really isn't necessary."

"Of course it is." He stopped and took her hands in his. "Anne, I feel bad sometimes that in going with your best friend to every event, you lose out on the experience of being asked. I don't go with you as a consolation."

When their eyes met, he felt a jolt go through him. Her eyes were sincere and imploring, and she smiled softly. "Thank you, Gil. I don't go with you as consolation either."

Her words made him lose his train of thought, so he slid his arm up to link with hers again and continued their walk. He felt hope blossom within him and cautioned himself to slow down. He had a plan. He just needed to stick to the plan. "I also had something else I would like to talk to you about," he said, clearing his throat.

"Oh?" She was nonplussed.

"Well, as you know, I won't be home most of the summer; and while my parents understand why I'm staying in Kingsport, I think they are a little apprehensive about not having any extra support in working out the finances for harvest and getting things prepared…"

He trailed off. Was he out of bounds asking this of her? "I know I may have no right to ask you this, and I'm only asking you because there's no one else I can trust with it. But, don't feel any pressure because I know you probably have a million things to—"

"Gil," she squeezed his arm, "just tell me. You can tell me anything."

Her eyes sparkled, and he felt he could tell her everything right then and there. It took him a moment to find his tongue again. "I was wondering if you could check in on my parents from time to time. Maybe double check their finances and occasionally help my mother out with various things? You know how fond my parents are of you, and I don't really trust anyone else to take care of them."

Suddenly, she laughed. "Is that all, Gil? I was going to do that anyway! I love your parents."

He couldn't stop himself from beaming. "You were?"

"Of course! I actually might like your parents better than you!" She said, lightly elbowing him in the ribs. "They're just like you, but they don't tease me or drive me crazy half the time."

He let out a burst of joyful laughter. "Oh, come on, Anne! You would be distraught if I suddenly stopped teasing you."

She shot him an arch look, "You think far too highly of yourself, Mr. Blythe."

They finally reached Patty's Place, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to face him. "I don't think I've been allowed to think highly of myself for the last nine years. This mad redheaded woman keeps putting me in my place."

She poked him in the chest with one eyebrow raised, "And, don't you forget it! Or, you'll see just how redheaded this woman can be."

He grabbed the finger poking his chest. _How could she not feel the spark between us?_ It was all he could do to not pull her against the post of the veranda and show her just where he thought his place should be.

"But, all jokes aside, Anne. Thank you so much for all you do for me," he spoke softly, pulling their joined hand to the small space between them.

"I do nothing that isn't required of a best friend." Her face was expressionless, but her voice was tender.

"Regardless, I want you know that I don't take you for granted." He felt the smile fall from his face before he bent down to press his lips to her cheek, as if pulled by some magnetic force.

He knew he lingered a half second too long, but the moment was too sweet to be rushed.

When he pulled back, he saw a bright, beautiful blush covering her face, still visible in the moonlight. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before she spoke, "I know you don't."

She took a step back, breaking eye contact, much to his chagrin. "It's getting late. I should probably get inside, so the girls don't worry."

She dropped his hand and leaned back against the veranda. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

His heart sank at her sudden distance, but he managed a genuine smile. "Of course," he tipped his hat at her and stepped back, "Goodnight, Shirley."

She smiled as she leaned her head against the wood post, "Goodnight, Gil."

* * *

As Anne walked in the door; Priscilla, Phil, and Stella were sitting in the parlor with cups of tea, and Anne flopped into a chair around them.

"Well, we're home awfully late, aren't we?" Stella teased. "Did all go well with Jeremy?"

Anne sighed. "Yes, we finished about half an hour ago. Gil just had to discuss something with me, so it took a little extra time to walk home," she said flatly.

"Oh, he had something to discuss, did he?" Priscilla raised her eyebrows at Phil and Stella.

Anne waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, stop your insinuations, Pris. He just wanted to make sure we were going to the end of year ball together and to ask me if I could help out his parents over the summer while he's in Kingsport."

"Gilbert's not coming back to the Island this summer?" Stella asked in surprise.

Anne shook her head, "He'll only be back for the first ten days, but then he's going to start work at _The Daily News_."

"Aha!" Phil cried, shifting forward in her seat to point at Anne, "That's the real reason you want to come to Bolingbrook in July!"

Anne flushed. "No," she lied instinctively. "Marilla always needs extra help this time of year!"

"And, you want to spend as many full days with Gilbert before he comes back to Kingsport!" Phil added with an imperious smirk.

Anne sank into her chair further. "Okay, while that may have played a very minor role in the decision, my main reason is obligation to my family! And even if I did want to go back to Avonlea earlier to see my best friend, where's the shame in that? We've never been apart that long in the whole time I've known him!"

Priscilla narrowed her eyes at Anne. "So you can't go two and a half months without seeing him and you're taking significant financial burden on yourself so that you can have just a few more days with him?"

Anne rolled her eyes in response. "You all are ridiculous. All these insinuations you make about Gil and me are completely unfounded! For heaven's sake, I tell him when I'm menstruating!" At this the girls, looked at her in shock, but Anne continued unconcerned, "Our conversations aren't exactly romantic!"

Priscilla looked at her in confusion, "Anne, what do you think husbands and wives know about each other? Honestly, you two already talk like a married couple, and you are happy and comfortable talking like that! Romance is the easy part, but you both already have the strongest foundation for romance that I have ever seen."

Anne paused. She never really considered what she would tell her future husband about her past. He would have to know about some things, but could he ever really love her if he knew it all? _Gil knows it all_ , she thought in spite of herself. _That's why he could never love me like that._

"Okay, well, I know for a fact that romance is out of the option for us. Gilbert was just telling me about his dream woman the other day, and I'm nothing like what he's looking for!"

Phil glared at Anne. "Then, why would Gilbert reject every girl who comes flirting his way and choose instead to spend all of his time with the woman who just happens to be the complete antithesis of his ideals?"

Anne sat up haughtily at this. "Don't ask me, Phil. I don't deign to know understand the nonsensical brains of men."

"Have you noticed that you immediately focused on Gilbert's feelings for you rather than yours for him?" Stella asked critically.

Anne laughed a bit too loudly. "What feelings?! There are no feelings! I think you've been taking your psychology lectures too seriously."

"And, methinks the lady doth protest too much," Stella retorted.

"Oh, Stella, you should know that it's a low blow to use Shakespeare against me of all people!"

Priscilla rolled her eyes, "Anne, be serious. How do you really feel about Gilbert?"

Anne sighed and said the only thing she could trust herself to say, "The only thing I know for sure is that Gilbert is my best friend."

The girls clearly wanted to ask her more, but she suddenly felt intensely weary. "I'm sorry, girls. I'm not feeling well. I think I'd better retire for the night."

Phil let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, goodnight, Queen Anne, but don't think you can avoid this conversation forever!"

Anne scurried up the steps before they could say anything more. As she brushed her hair out, she was startled to see her hands were still shaking slightly from Gilbert's innocent kiss. She clasped her hands together to get them to stop, but the tension remained after her hands had calmed. She began listing off reasons in her head why she didn't feel anything for Gilbert, and, much to her frustration, she felt herself become more tense.

She spent hours like this until she finally allowed herself to imagine kissing Gilbert's cheek, stroking his cheeks with her hand, and gazing into his twinkling, hazel eyes. The tension left her body, and she was finally able to fall asleep.

* * *

 _Up next: the ball, a new opportunity for Anne's future, everyone's least favorite coed, and some very heavy subtext..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for all your kind words on last chapter, and I really hope you like this one. This will probably be one of the most emotional chapters in this story which I didn't intend it to be, but I'm please with how it turned out. Let me know your thoughts!_

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Anne smirked as Gilbert and Dorothy presented their findings in class, finding some selfish pleasure in how they presented together. Their ideas were good and Gilbert's arguments were especially well-supported, but their presentation lacked all synchronicity. Dorothy frequently began speaking before Gilbert was finished with his point, and they would fumble for a few seconds to get back on track.

She felt that she and Jeremy did significantly better, but it was nothing compared to when she and Gilbert would debate. Jeremy's arguments lacked conviction, while Anne's were passionate and well-spoken. She felt strongly about the topic—"should parents invest equally in the education of their children?" Of course, she argued. She of all people knew the consequences of unequal treatment of children as well as how any bit of education benefits all children in some way. She caught Gilbert's eye as she made a point about impoverished children that could just as easily been said about herself. He gave her a reassuring smile and an almost imperceptible nod, as if he understood exactly what she was thinking.

At his small gesture of reassurance, her mouth lifted into a small confident smile and finished her closing argument with an assertive call to action. When she was finished, the class gave her loud applause, though no one was clapping louder than Gilbert in the third row. He let out a little whistle, and she gave him a restrained glare which just made him smile wider.

She went to sit back down next to him, as the next pair presenting made their way to the front of the classroom. She nudged him in annoyance, and he feigned innocence.

As the new presentation began, Gilbert pushed a piece of paper to her. She unfolded it to see his small, neat handwriting. _"You were brilliant! I guess I'm going to have to lick my wounds for coming in second."_

She tried to roll her eyes at him but couldn't contain her smile. He beamed at her as she began to write a response on the opposite side of the paper, _"I don't know. I was quite impressed by your presentation with Dorothy…"_ She smirked and handed the paper back to him.

He opened it and mouthed "Shut up" to her with a mock glare. She nearly burst into laughter before realizing that the current presenters were still giving their opening arguments.

The last presentation finished, and Professor Hughes gave a small speech about how he hoped his students would continue to use philosophy in the rest of their lives before scurrying to the back of the classroom to give each student a handshake on their way out.

Gilbert and Anne were among the last students out, and as Anne shook the hand of her professor, he said, "Excellent job, this semester, Miss Shirley. I wondered actually if I might have a word before you leave."

She looked at Gilbert apologetically—they were going to a tea room to celebrate the end of classes. He shook his head with a good-natured smile and touched her elbow gently. "Go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow night."

She nodded back at him and turned back to her professor. "Absolutely, Professor Hughes."

He held her paper in his hand. "Miss Shirley, I hope you realize that this is exemplary work."

She blushed, "Thank you, Professor. I was quite invested in the project."

He chuckled softly, "Yes, I'm quite aware of your investment in the subject. Some of your and Mr. Blythe's classroom debates would have kept me on my toes. But, that brings me to my main point. Miss Shirley, you have a talent for words that I don't possess."

Anne's eyes widened, but she said nothing, not wanting to betray her excitement.

"I've always had difficulty trying to explain philosophical principles and their effect on the ethical dilemmas that we face in our daily lives, but you do it in such a way that fully captures the nuance of philosophy while making it accessible to people."

Anne shook her head. "Professor, it's not just me. The dilemmas you chose were quite applicable to daily life."

"Yes, but you managed to bring philosophical reasoning into those dilemmas without idealizing them or making them purely theoretical.

"Miss Shirley, I have lived my life in ivory towers, writing papers that will only be read by those who already know philosophy as well as myself, but I dream of a world where people consider philosophy to help them through some most difficult moments in life. That is why I would like to submit your paper to _The Daily News_ here in Kingsport."

Her jaw dropped slightly before she shut it with a definitive clack. "Me? Published in _The Daily News_?"

"Well, of course, you would have to rewrite it in a more editorial style, but I think it could be a brilliant piece. So, what do you say?"

Anne blinked a couple times, still quite shocked from the unexpected opportunity; however, she managed to blurt out a 'yes!' before quieting herself slightly. "What would I have to do?"

"Well, if you think it's reasonable, take a week to rewrite it, and send it in. I've already written a letter to accompany your submission to the editor. With my endorsement, I think it has a high chance of being published within a couple weeks."

"Yes, yes, that is absolutely reasonable! I can do that!" she said, trying to suppress a squeal of excitement.

They spoke for a few more minutes about the details of adapting her piece for print, and Anne left the classroom, feeling like she couldn't touch the ground. She walked aimlessly around campus, brainstorming ideas for her rewrite, when she promptly ran into Phil.

"Well, Anne Shirley, you look dreamier than usual," she said with a little flounce.

"Oh, Phil, I must be dreaming because I really can't be sure that I have just been given the opportunity to achieve one of my lifelong goals!"

Phil's face lit up, and she pulled Anne to sit on a near by bench. "Tell me everything right now!"

Anne crossed her ankles and looked at Phil with barely contained anticipation. "Well, I just spoke with Professor Hughes who just told me that he would like to have my most recent paper published in _The Daily News_!"

"Oh, darling, that's simply wonderful!" Phil cried, clapping her hands together. "What's it about?"

"Giving one's children the same educational opportunities through the lens of moral philosophy!" She sighed with a gentle smile, "I always thought I would be published for a work of fiction, but I'm just so passionate about the topic that I can't even be disappointed! I never dreamed that I could ever be published while I'm still at college!"

Phil laughed, "Well, life has a way of surprising you, I suppose! When do you think it will be published?"

"Professor Hughes said it wouldn't be for another two to three weeks," she groaned impatiently.

"Enough of your groaning, Anne Shirley! You're achieving one of your life-long goals, and at the fresh age of twenty no less! I don't have any goals, so I am already quite far behind!"

Anne took Phil's hand, "Don't say that, Phil! You are incredibly intelligent and vivacious, and I fully expect that once you find your calling, you will go after it with all the ambition in the world!"

Phil leaned her shoulder against Anne's. "Oh, I certainly hope so, but in the meantime, I will bow down to you, Queen Anne."

* * *

Gilbert waited the parlor of Patty's Place, bouncing back and forth on his heels. It was their first dance together since he had begun to woo Anne. He had gotten her a bouquet of lilies. He was going to dance with her three times—maybe four times, if she agreed—and he would hold her a little closer than normal. He was going to drop her hints about the future, and on their last dance, he would suggest that they leave a little earlier to enjoy the night air. Then, he would find the courage to hold her hand as they walked.

He had it all planned out, but it was his planning that had now scared him the most. Anne was unpredictable, and as he stood waiting for her to come down, he realized how foolish he had been to think he could ever plan out what he was going to do at every step of the evening. For heaven's sake, he was planning on returning a book at the library no more than two weeks ago!

He heard a creak on the steps and looked up to see Aunt Jimsie. "Good heavens, Gilbert! Stop your pacing around and take a seat! She'll just be another minute."

Gilbert shot her an apologetic smile and sat on the sofa facing the fireplace. As he stared into the fire place, he closed his eyes and imagined his future hearth. On a cool spring evening like tonight, he, Anne, and their children would sit around the fire as Anne held them captive with a story. Maybe during the winter, they would stay up after all the children had gone to bed. She would lie in his arms, and they would drink spiced tea. He would tell her about a case that was stumping him, and she would tell him about a new story she read that he would find riveting. He sighed longingly.

"Well, don't you just look lovely, Anne!"

At the sound of Aunt Jimsie's voice, he shot out of his seat and turned to her. His jaw dropped. She was wearing a dark green sleeveless gown with a fitted bodice and a wide scoop neck that exposed her collarbones and most of her shoulders. She was wearing long black gloves that left her upper arms exposed, and he couldn't recall a time when he had ever seen her shoulders or her upper arms.

She giggled, "Tell that to Pris! It's her dress!"

Gilbert stepped forward and handed her the bouquet. "Anne, you look…"

He couldn't say another word as she leaned into sniff the bouquet, and he caught sight of the gentle swell of the top of her breasts on the gown. "Lilies of the valley! My favorites! Thank you, Gil," she said beaming.

He had no idea what to say next, but he took a lily and tucked it in her hair gently. He could see the sharp rise and fall of her chest as he moved closer. Could he be causing this reaction? The idea sent a thrill through him. He was generally a very confident person, but the idea that Anne never seemed attracted to him in the slightest gave him more than a few insecurities.

She was sporting a lovely flush when he pulled back. "Are you ready to go? If we wait any longer, we'll miss the first dance, and I was really hoping to steal four tonight."

She swatted his arm before resting her hand on it. "Four? Gilbert Blythe, I would feel rather greedy if I stole you away from your adoring public for anything more than three."

He snorted, "Well, I'm the one asking, so I would be even greedier than you, so you would be in fine company."

"Fine. Four dances, but one of them has to be the last one in case I want to leave early," she countered.

He laughed loudly, "Have you taken to mind reading lately, Shirley? That was my plan all along!"

* * *

Their walk was leisurely, and the ball was in full swing by the time they arrived. They jumped into their first dance with alacrity, smiling brightly as they hopped to the merry tune. At one point during the dance, Gilbert looked toward the band, and Anne found herself studying his profile. His face was so expressive. His eyes danced, and his smile spoke volumes to his mood. His strong jaw and high cheekbones made every movement of his face visible.

Until recently, Anne felt like she knew every single one of his expressions. He wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time, but lately, it had been difficult to read him all the time. Now, he was happy. She knew that. He loved dancing, and he loved parties—as long as he had close friends there. This was his element, but then he would do something he had never done before—like kiss her cheek—and suddenly, she felt like she couldn't see anything that she recognized in his eyes. It unnerved her. She almost felt like didn't truly know him until she began to see the same familiar expressions of joy, sadness, anger, exasperation, boredom, anticipation, and anxiety she knew better than her own reflection.

When Gilbert turned back to her, their eyes met, and his grin widened. How is he this handsome? It really should be a crime! "Oh! I forgot to ask you! What did Professor Hughes want to talk to you about yesterday?"

She gave a little jump at the reminder. "Oh, Gil! I can't believe I haven't told you yet! It's the most wonderful news?"

His eyes widened, and she paused as felt him pull her a little closer. "Anne Shirley, if you don't tell me this minute, I swear I'll—"

She covered his mouth with her hand. "Shut your mouth, Gil! Let me get to it!" She removed her hand from his mouth and placed it back on his shoulder. Then, she paused a moment for dramatic effect before exclaiming, "I'm going to be published!"

He stopped right then on the dance floor and put both of his hands on her shoulder. She couldn't believe that his smile become even brighter. "Published?! One of your stories? Where?" he asked in quick succession.

"Professor Hughes wants me to adapt my final philosophy paper into an article and submit it to _The Daily News_ with his endorsement!" she said, trying to speak in her excited laughter.

Her eyes flew open as he embraced her, pulling her tight against his chest. He pulled himself away almost a moment later and pushed himself back into a dancing posture. "Sorry," he laughed. "This has just been one of your dreams for so long. I feel that it's almost become one of mine too!"

He looked at her in wonder. "My best friend—a published author…"

Her heart constricted at his pride. She couldn't imagine anyone else having quite the same reaction. For all their competition, he had always treated her successes as his own. Men, especially, had always looked down on her dreams and ambitions as frivolous. Charlie had once dared to call her writing "a feminine diversion." She remembered Gilbert's laughter as she "accidentally" stepped on Charlie's foot.

Gilbert was different, though. She knew he saw her ambitions as equal to hers, and that made his joy all the more touching.

"Well, I'm not published yet! So don't get ahead of yourself, Gil."

He shook his head. "Anne, you're only twenty, and you're writing publishable work. Work that has been reviewed by a professional! This is just the beginning—I'm sure of it."

He squeezed her hand, and she felt like she was the queen. She could do this. She could be a writer!

When the dance ended, Anne found herself rather reluctant to leave Gilbert's company, but he was engaged to dance with Dorothy and she with Jeremy. She found herself bored by most of the men she danced with. Jeremy was charming but lacked passion. Charlie was too Sloanish to be enjoyable. Moody was sweet as ever but didn't understand her sense of humor, leaving her feeling quite awkward. It wasn't until her final dance with Gilbert before dinner when she realized how stifling most men were. It was as if she had been holding her breath until she could be around someone who actually knew her again. _How will I survive this summer without him?_ she thought pensively.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked suddenly.

"Hm?" she hummed absentmindedly.

His face was concerned. "One moment you were laughing, and the next you looked completely apprehensive."

She sighed. Of course, he could read her emotions. "Gil, I don't want to manipulate you or make you feel guilty for staying in Kingsport for the summer. I just think I realized how difficult this summer is going to be without you."

He tipped her face up to look at him. "Hey, it's just going to be a few weeks, and I'm sure we're going to write so much, you'll get sick of it." His smile was so genuine, she couldn't help but return it.

She bit her lip. "I suppose so. Not to mention I'll have Phil to distract me when I go to Bolingbrook."

"Exactly," he said softly as the dance ended. "Now shall we go to dinner?"

* * *

Dinner was a lively affair, as Gilbert and Anne were seated with the girls of Patty's Place and their dates. After they had finished, Anne and Gilbert lingered in the dining room after most of their party had left.

"Anne, there's hardly anyone left in the dining room. Shouldn't we go back to the hall soon?"

She grabbed his arm and gave him an imploring look. "Just a little bit longer, Gil. Dinner was so lovely, and the air in here is positively saturated with the spirit of friendship. I just want to linger in it before I have to dance with more vapid men."

"Why, gee, thanks," he deadpanned.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "Not you, Gil. You're the only one around here who can hold a decent intellectual conversation with a woman."

She suppressed a smile at his soft blush, "Well, I'm sure that's not true. Speaking of men who can hold a conversation, that's Ronald Stuart coming over here right now."

"Hey, Blythe, long time—no see! How are you?" Ronald said amiably, shaking Gilbert's hand.

"Pretty well, and yourself?"

"Ready to get out of here. It's been a great four years, but I need to change some things up a bit."

"Ron, it's nice to see you again," Anne interjected gracefully, shaking Ronald's hand.

"You too, Anne. I know Blythe here can't get into too much trouble if you're around."

Anne laughed, "Actually, I think he might get into more trouble when I'm around."

Gilbert flashed her a mischievous smile. "Well, there's no slates, bodies of water, or tobacco around; so I think I'm safe."

Anne flushed under Ronald's confused stare and decided to turn to the woman on Ronald's arm. "Ron, aren't you going to introduce us to your companion?" she asked with a large smile.

Ronald looked down at the beautiful woman beside him. "Oh, yes! How rude of me! Anne, Gilbert, this is my sister Christine who will be attending Redmond next year."

Anne extended her hand with a brilliant smile. "Lovely to meet you, Christine."

Christine gave a gracious little curtsey and responded in a demure voice, "Likewise."

Gilbert followed suit and introduced himself.

"That's actually why I came over to talk to you, Blythe," Ronald interjected. "Seeing as I won't be here next year, I was hoping you could show Christine the ropes while she gets acclimated in the fall. The same goes for you, Anne."

Anne's stomach clenched slightly as Gilbert flashed his natural charming smile at Christine. "Of course. I happen to have this next dance free. Would you care to dance, Miss Stuart?"

Christine's face lit up, and she batted her long lashes. "I would love to," she said, taking Gilbert's hand.

Before he moved to leave the room, he bent down to Anne's ear and murmured, "Next, I'm coming for you, Shirley."

Anne cursed the blush in her cheeks as she watched them walk away before graciously accepting a dance from Ronald.

On the dance floor, Anne could hardly keep her eyes from where Gilbert and Christine were chatting gaily. She felt guilty that she wasn't really paying attention to her conversation with Ronald, but she found herself unable to look away from the pair.

They really looked quite lovely together. Christine was absolutely beautiful and graceful on the dance floor. She and Gilbert were so attractive that they just looked right together. She felt her own insecurities so intensely at that moment, she felt tears sting behind her eyes. She looked away from where they were dancing to focus on Ronald, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christine place a dainty hand on his chest as she laughed at something he said. Anne could no longer contain the pressure behind her eyes and a tear slipped out.

"Anne?" she heard Ronald say faintly.

She stopped dancing and pulled away slightly, wiping away her single tear. She felt her voice waver as she spoke, "I'm so sorry, Ronald. This is so completely rude of me. I'm just not feeling quite well, so I'm going to take a turn outside to get some air."

He gave her a compassionate smile. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine, but thank you for such a lovely dance."

She didn't look back as she hurried out of the ballroom and into the night air. She hardly made it out the door before she slammed her back against the wall to the garden terrace and burst into tears. She was so angry, it made her sick to her stomach. Why should she be so affected by seeing Gilbert with a beautiful woman like Christine? She had seen him with dozens of beautiful women before. There was something about the way he interacted with Christine that made her feel her physical imperfections. How could Gilbert go back to dancing with awkward, plain Anne from Avonlea after he had danced with Christine, the beautiful, graceful bluenose?

Of course, Gilbert had never made her feel ugly, and she found that she rarely thought about her physical appearance when he was with her. Still, she found herself lamenting at the fact that Gilbert could not think her beautiful. She covered her eyes and release an angry sob. Why should she care what Gilbert thought of her beauty? He was still her friend, and that was all that mattered!

"Anne?"

She closed her eyes in frustration and dug her back further into the wall she was leaning against. "Here," she said in a hollow voice.

Gilbert came to stand in front of her with an alarmed look. "Anne, what's wrong?" he gently took her hands and pulled her away from the wall.

She began to cry harder at his tenderness and couldn't stop even as he pulled her against his chest. She cried into his shoulder for what seemed like hours until she found that the tears couldn't come anymore. She finally pulled herself away from him and looked into his concerned eyes. Finally, he said what she needed to hear. "Let's go home."

She threaded her arm through his and pulled him close, resting her head against his shoulder. Once they had walked a distance from campus, Gilbert pulled her toward a bench in the park near Patty's Place. They sat down, and Anne finally found the energy to speak. "I'm sorry we had to leave early, Gil."

He looked at her sharply. "I could care less about the dance. The only thing I really care about is you. What's going on, Anne?"

She shook her head, "I really don't know what's getting into me. I just think some of my insecurities were getting to me tonight."

He took her hand, causing her to finally look at him. "Could you try and explain it to me? I think it might help if we could talk about it."

She sighed. How could she tell him that she felt insecure because he didn't find her beautiful? That it hurt her to see him with Christine and feel like she could lose him to her? "Gil, I—I—why can't I be beautiful?"

His eyes widened, and he looked at her in shock. "What?"

She groaned in frustration at her inability to articulate her feelings to him. "Ugh! I didn't explain that well." She sighed, "As pathetic as it sounds, I was feeling rather uncomfortable being around so many beautiful and poised woman when I am just…me."

He blinked at her for a moment before speaking, "Anne, you have to know that—"

She looked away from him angrily. "Gil, I know what you're going to say. It's far better to be intelligent than pretty. But, I'm sorry. I know I'm smart, and I know I'm not pretty. But, right now I couldn't care less about my intelligence because I'm absolutely sure that I would be happy right now if I were a beautiful fool."

He didn't speak, and when the silence finally become unbearable, she back at him to see the distraught look on his face. Her heart twisted painfully at his expression. "Gil, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"No, Anne. I'm sorry—sorrier than I have ever about anything in my life."

He looked at her intensely, and she was taken aback by his words. "What do you have to be sorry about?" she whispered.

"I can't believe I've let you believe these lies, Anne. I—I—" his hands clenched in his lap. "When I said that, I never meant that you're not beautiful. I meant that you are so, so incredibly special because you're not just another pretty face, but you're incredibly intelligent and eloquent and—"

"Gil, I wasn't fishing for a compliment. I know what I am," she said fiercely.

He took her face in his hands and gave her a look that silenced all of her thoughts. "Anne Shirley, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known," he said with quiet intensity.

She stared into his eyes for what felt like an eternity. She believed him. She felt herself begin tremble as unbidden sensations filled her body. Her whole body felt warm, and she wanted to be as close to him as possible. A tear fell on to her arm, and she was suddenly aware of her surroundings again.

She startled slightly, realizing how close she was to him. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "Carrots," he whispered with a soft smile.

She giggled softly through her tears and sniffed. "Oh, Gil, you're too good for this world. I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"Everyone has their messes. Thank you for not hiding yours from me," he said, pulling her to her feet.

She blushed and avoided his eyes. As much as it pained her to think he thought her plain, she was filled with panic at his new admission. Her mind was racing with indistinct memories of their past, and she couldn't seem to sort her thoughts as they began to walk toward Patty's Place.

They were silent until they reached the verandah. "Gil?"

"Yes?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his neck. "Thank you for being my best friend," she murmured.

The words were as true as they ever were, but somehow sounded disingenuous coming out of her mouth.

His arms tightened around her waist, and as quickly as it had begun, the embrace ended. She wordlessly slipped through the door and fell back against the door. Her knees buckled as she slid to the ground.

* * *

 _Well, the muse was fickle on this one, but by the end, it was working on hyper speed! So, I don't think I can be held responsible for all the grammatical mistakes! Anyway, as always, I love to hear your thoughts! They make my day and get me through long days of transcribing and translating!_

 _Up next: We're back in Avonlea, Davy creates an awkward situation, Gil has an honest chat with his parents, and Anne has dinner with the Blythes!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you once again for all your kind words! They mean so much to me! Also, so sorry for the delay on this one. One week in the hospital, journal submission deadlines for my research, and an ever growing pile of translations has made this month truly insane; but I'm happy to be back on the saddle again! And, I hope this extra long chapter more than makes up for it!_

 _This is when things begin to get a little tense, and the perspectives of each moment become more important! Happy reading, and, as always, let me know what you think!_

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

The wind whipped Gilbert's curls around as he stared out over the sea. Even on his eighth journey between Kingsport and Charlottetown, he still felt as if it was his first.

He sighed with a carelessly blissful smile. When he was a child, he would have never imagined himself here at this point in his life—studying to be a doctor in Kingsport, academically successful, and in-love with a woman that he could have never imagined in his wildest dreams. How had his aspirations changed so much in just ten years?

"What are you smiling about?"

He turned slightly to see Anne standing next to him as several escaped strands of red hair blew her in the wind. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about some things," he remarked cryptically.

"Some things? Like what color Charlie's face would be if I punched him?" Anne said, giving him a mock glare.

He let out a loud laugh and looked at her fondly. "What did Charles do this time?"

Anne growled at the ocean. "Charlie kept bringing up the fact that he has decided to court the girl he brought to the ball, and then apologizing to me for bringing it up because—and I quote!—'he doesn't want to make things awkward for me!'"

At this, Gilbert burst in to uproarious laughter. "Well, Anne, I'm so sorry that you missed your chance at becoming a Sloane. I think that if you got on your hands and knees, he would most certainly take you back."

He dodged her hand as she went to push him. "Gilbert Blythe, one more word, and I will push you overboard!"

"Sorry, Anne, but you know that I can never resist where you and Charlie are concerned. Honestly, his infatuation with you never made sense to me."

Anne narrowed her eyes at him, "Well, thank you, Gilbert! It's good to know that it's absolutely incomprehensible that anyone could be attracted to me!" She turned on her heel to stomp away, but he grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving.

"Come on. You know I don't think that in the slightest. What I meant was that Charlie clearly wants a conventional wife who doesn't have a strong personality or opinions, and you are the opposite of that in every possible way."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I guess you're right. Save Marilla, I don't think I've ever really obeyed anyone in my life."

"And don't I know it!" he said cheekily.

"Oh, Gil, you never told me what you were thinking about," Anne said, nudging his shoulder.

He sighed and smiled. "I was thinking about how I pictured the future for myself when I was younger, and how much my aspirations have changed."

"Really?" Her face was slightly surprised. "I feel like you've always been ambitious."

He smirked. "That's because you, Miss Shirley, met me when all of my aspirations were changing."

"Well, what did you expect for yourself before then?"

He looked out over the sea, seeing the first glimpses of Charlottetown in the distance. "Well, I imagined my life like all the boys of Avonlea. I would have gone to school until I was sixteen, worked on the farm under my father for a few years, found a wife, and become a farmer in my own right. I really couldn't imagine leaving P.E.I."

Without seeing her, he could feel that she was staring at him. "What changed?"

The gentleness in her voice surprised him, and his head turned to meet her gaze. The look on her face was so open and welcoming he almost lost his train of thought.

He cleared his throat. "Well, going to Alberta put a lot of things into perspective for me. I think I had never really understood that there was a world outside of P.E.I. until I moved to Alberta. Living there with my dad and away from everything I had known challenged me in a way I didn't expect. It was unfamiliar and terrifying but also thrilling and exhilarating, and when I got back, I began to see things differently."

"How so?"

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, "Well, for instance, it changed the way I saw my parents' marriage." He sighed, unsure of this line of thought. "I think when you're a child, you don't really see your parents as individuals outside of what they do for you. I thought my dad loved her because she was pretty and a good mother and housekeeper; therefore, I thought that's all I would want in my future marriage. But, the distance was hard on them, and my dad would spend hours telling me stories about my mother when she was younger. When he really missed her, he would tell me all the reasons he loved her.

"When we got back, I remember Ma picking us up from the train station. They hardly spoke to each other on the way home as I wanted her attention, but as soon as Dad walked in the door, he collapsed in my mother's arms. The held each other and cried, and I just remember him murmuring 'thank you, thank you' over into her shoulder.

"I think that seeing how important my mother was not just in keeping the farm afloat but in being my father's closest companion and dearest love changed the way I looked at her and the other women in my life. I began to admire her for her quiet strength and dedication and humor and nonsense attitude.

He smirked at her a little. "As hard as it may be for you to believe, I think coming back from Alberta was when I really started to respect woman and see them as my equal."

She grasped his hand on the railing and laughed gently. "It's not hard for me to believe now, but I believe that my eleven year old self would beg to differ."

He chuckled lightly, not wanting to betray the sincerity of his next words. "Well, I think that your arrival in Avonlea had almost as much impact on me as my time in Alberta."

She swatted his arm playfully, "Gil, be serious!"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm being completely serious, Anne. I had never been challenged in Avonlea before you arrived. You didn't know me before, but I was never academically inclined. I never did extra work or valued my education, and I never would have worked for the approval of a girl—let alone one who didn't give me the time of day.

"Alberta showed me how small my world was, but you're the one who expanded my perspective. You showed me what it looked like to value my education and imagine something bigger than myself and what—"

He stopped abruptly, and her eyes shot to his. "And what?" she said expectantly.

"And what it was like to find an equal," he finished softly, returning his gaze to the ocean.

A silence hung over the two of them before she spoke with an unknown emotion. "I understand."

He looked at her questioningly, and her eyes met his briefly before looking toward Charlottetown. "I don't think I could have ever imagined myself here either." She smiled wryly. "You know what I expected for my life. Ten years ago, I would have expected my twenty year old self to still be in service without any dream of an education or a family. I would have never dreamt that I would have had such wonderful guardians as Matthew and Marilla, or siblings like Davy and Dora, or even any friends like you and Di.

"Each one of you has taught me to not just imagine but dream for myself…"

She hugged her arms around her body and bit her lip with a dreamy smile. "I'm going to be a published author and a BA. I have a wonderful family and dedicated friends. It's amazing to think that I can dream more for myself than what I have right now."

He turned his entire body toward her and leaned against the rails of the deck. "And what are you dreaming of next?" he said with the smallest hint of flirtation in his voice.

She looked at him and grinned as she stepped on to the bottom rail of the deck and leaned over the side. "Everything!" she yelled into the wind, laughing incandescently.

He beamed at her and struggled not to confess the dream dearest to his heart right then and there. Was she showing him that she was beginning to care? She was so affectionate that for a moment he felt so completely secure in their relationship. He stepped up onto the rail to lean out with her and looked at her beautiful hair flying behind her in the strong ocean breeze. "Well, then, I'll have to figure out how to get 'everything' because I'm planning for you to have all your dreams come true," he called to her, over the sound of the waves, grinning at the vulnerable happiness that shone on her face.

* * *

Her arrival at Green Gables brought a light back in to the home that had long been missing. Anne received a joyful welcome as the twins embraced her from either side and Marilla hugged her firmly—even Mrs. Lynde came and patted Anne on the cheek with only a small comment about her weight. Dinner had been hearty, and Anne had gone to sleep more peacefully than she had done in weeks.

The next morning, the twins went out with Marilla to pay a visit to the Harrison's, and Anne took advantage of the silence to get some reading done. She sat in the parlor with her feet curled up on the sofa beside her and leaned her head against her hand as she flipped through the pages of a Russian novel Gilbert had picked up for her in Kingsport before they left— _Anna Karenina_. "I picked it just because of the title—a lovely name," he had said with an teasing smirk.

She simply rolled her eyes and said she hoped that the story was more interesting that the title. She smiled at the memory, her heart fluttering slightly.

 _You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known._ The words had been echoing in her head since the night of the ball, as she struggled to make sense of them. It was a compliment unlike any other he had ever given her, leaving a dozen unanswerable questions in its wake. _Was he sincere or was he just trying to make me feel better? Can friends find each other beautiful without being attracted to them? Is Gil attracted to me? Would he—could he?_ She refused to dignify the thought. Still, something had changed in him over the past couple weeks. He felt closer than ever yet frustratingly far away at the same time.

She shivered at the memory of his recent closeness. How he kissed her cheek when he walked her home. The way he held her close when she cried. His piercing gaze as he promised her to fulfill all her dreams.

She groaned internally. She needed an escape from mixed signals and strange emotions. She opened _Anna Karenina_. _Let this be an escape from all these confusing emotions_ , she silently wished. Unfortunately, a while later, Anne found herself a hundred pages in and more conflicted than ever.

That evening, Marilla had invited Gilbert to dinner at Anne's behest, and Anne found herself suppressing laughter as Gilbert fielded a series of questions from a rather overeager Davy and the ever-stern Mrs. Lynde.

"So, you are telling me that men and women take anatomy classes together?" Mrs. Lynde asked incredulously.

She caught Gilbert's eye, and he coughed to cover up his grin. "Yes, Mrs. Lynde, why shouldn't they?" he asked innocently.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, you know exactly why, Gilbert Blythe! You've taken anatomy!" she said accusingly.

At this, Anne couldn't contain her laughter anymore. She burst into giggles and tried to control herself by shaking her head. However, Mrs. Lynde's nostrils flared which only made Anne laugh harder and Gilbert join in.

Mrs. Lynde looked to Marilla for assistance, and seeing no response from Green Gables' matriarch stormed off to her room. As soon as the door to Mrs. Lynde's room slammed, Marilla let out a quick, quiet chuckle. "Could you both try to be a bit more proper at least in her company? One of these days you really might kill her."

Anne gave a warm look to her guardian. "I'm sorry, Marilla. We will try to be more propitious in the future."

Marilla scoffed, and Anne winked at Gil across the table.

"Davy, quit bouncing around! You've been on the edge of your seat for the past ten minutes, so best come and be out with whatever you're thinking," she said with a direct look.

"Do you wanna play catch tomorrow, Gil?" Davy asked with a grin.

Anne smirked behind her cup and made eye contact with Gilbert across the table. He looked a Davy with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, bud. I've got to help my parents with some chores around the farm tomorrow morning, and then I promised Anne that we would have a picnic with Fred and Diana tomorrow."

Davy slouched back in his seat. "Ugh! Why can't you just marry Anne already?"

Gilbert choked on his drink then, and Marilla suppressed a smile. Anne's eyes flew open in shock as she turned to the boy. "Davy Keith, what would possess you to say such a thing?!"

He shrugged. "Well, Milty told me that if your sister gets married, then her husband becomes your brother. So, if you married Gil, Gil would be my brother and then, he would have to play catch with me. And, Mrs. Lynde is always talking about how you two are gonna get married eventually, so I say just do it now."

Marilla gave the boy a stern look. "Davy, you cannot tell Gilbert to propose for your own personal gratification!"

"Well, why not, Gil? Anne may be a girl, but she's still fun. She can actually do stuff like climb trees and fish and swim!"

Gilbert, who had regained his composure by this point, smiled in amusement. "You're not wrong, but that's not how marriage works. Anne would have to love me in order for us to get married."

He looked at her as he said this, his eyes were smoldering, and her heart stopped. He didn't mention his own feelings, as if her love was the only missing piece in the equation. She was almost angry with him for placing this on her. What about his feelings? He didn't love her either! However, in the deep recesses of her mind, she had begun to doubt if he really did only see her as a friend. She had begun to entertain that maybe Priscilla was right, and they already had all the elements of a good marriage. Maybe all that was missing was the romance. _Or is it already there, Anne?_ She shuddered as she looked into his eyes, that were so full of passion.

"But, Anne is always so smiley when you're around, and I heard her once tell Diana that you were once the most handsome man on P.E.I.! So, couldn't you—"

Marilla clamped a hand over his mouth as Anne groaned into her hands. "That's quite enough from you for tonight. Bed!"

"But—"

"No buts! You've caused enough trouble tonight. To bed, this minute!"

Anne heard Davy stand up, her head still hidden behind her hands, but her head shot up at the sound of Gilbert's voice. "Hey, Davy. I may not be your brother by blood or by marriage, but maybe I can be your…uh…kindred brother? So that no matter what, I'll always come by to play catch."

Davy's face lit up at the suggestion, "No matter what?"

"'Course. How about we play a little football after church on Sunday?" he said with an affectionate smile.

"Yeah! Thanks, Gil!" Davy exclaimed before her trampled up the steps.

Anne looked tentatively over to Gilbert who was bright red by this point. Marilla looked between the two of them uncomfortably and stood smoothing down her apron. "Well, I better check on Rachel before the sun sets on her anger."

After Marilla left, the two sat in one of the most uncomfortable silences they had ever had. Her eyes shot up when he let out a sudden burst of laugher, and after a beat, she joined in. They laughed like maniacs, letting their laughter die down, until finally he spoke. "Well, it's getting late."

She nodded, a smile lingering on her face. "I suppose so."

They walked quietly to the veranda, and she was suddenly reluctant to let him go. They stood in silence for a moment before Gilbert chuckled lightly. "The most handsome man on P.E.I., eh?"

She felt her cheeks heat. "Oh, shut up! You know you're too handsome for your own good."

He moved a step closer with an infuriating smirk, "I knew that some considered me to be rather good-looking, but I didn't know that you did, Miss Shirley."

"Oh, you know I've never complained about your looks," she said dismissively.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Well, I suppose it is some consolation that you wouldn't marry anyone just for their looks?"

"Least of all you," she snorted.

He placed a hand on his chest in mock outrage. "Anne Shirley, I'm offended! Are you telling me that with all the Avonlea gossip over the last four years you never though once imagined marrying yours truly?"

She was off-put by his boldness but rose to the challenge. "Have you?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He moved a little closer until he was at her eye level. "Oh, maybe a couple times," he smirked.

She swallowed hard, completely disarmed by his proximity. "Well," the huskiness of her voice surprised her, "I don't think I ever have."

He gave her an unreadable, and she felt her temper flare at the next words out of his mouth. "Hmm…I guess this means I've finally out-imagined our own Miss Shirley."

"Gilbert Blythe, you better go home before I dig out my old slate!" she said bitingly.

"There she is!" he said triumphantly and turned to walk home. Once he got to the gate, he lifted his arm up and waved, shouting, "And, I'll see you tomorrow, Carrots!"

She watched him go, chewing on her bottom lip. How his presence managed to embarrass her, maker her laugh, and make her blush all in the course of ten minutes was beyond her!

* * *

 _She sat with her legs tucked in under her, and a copy of Frankenstein in her hand. The windows were open and the curtains billowed beautifully into the pretty sitting room. The jingle of keys in the lock made her put her book down and race to the door, and she pulled it open to find Gilbert dressed in a light grey suit—her favorite of his suits—, carrying a large leather bag._

 _He dropped the bag and swung her around in a tight embrace before setting her back on the ground and kissing her soundly. He held her closely to him and looked down at her, cupping her jaw. "How are you today, my love?"_

 _"Gil, I missed you so much I actually started to read some of your medical journals to help me fall asleep! Three days is much too long," she said with a playful pout._

 _He kissed her forehead tenderly. "I heartily agree! No more conferences for the rest of the year!" He then looked around. "And where are my three favorite troublemakers?"_

 _"They're out, helping Marilla with some errands, so I have seized these few peaceful hours and decided to finally read some Mary Shelley!"_

 _His eyes lit up, and he pulled her to sit beside him on the sofa. She instinctively rested her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "And, what did you think of it?"_

 _She sighed contentedly. "Well, I'm not quite done yet, but it's absolutely thrilling so far. I could just imagine parts of it taking place in the Haunted Wood. It feels so familiar!"_

 _"Only you could find yourself feeling at home in a gothic novel!" He chuckled and stroked her arm lightly. "And, speaking of novels…"_

 _She sat up instantly and looked at him expectantly, "You read the new chapters?"_

 _He nodded enthusiastically. "I read the whole thing on the train back from Charlottetown, and, Darling, I think the newest chapter is quite possibly the best yet! I was completely captive the entire time."_

 _"You didn't find it overly sentimental?"_

 _"Well, I am just an old, sentimental, married man; but I would say that you balanced the sentimentality with some more practical concerns perfectly!"_

 _"Well, that must be all your influence then, Dr. Blythe, because I have never been known to be practical on my own," she said, giving a quick peck to his jaw._

 _He held her gaze for a moment before his smile twisted mischievously. "So, the children are out with Marilla, and I am home early from my lecture, and nobody else is home…"_

 _She grinned at him, "Race you?"_

 _Suddenly, they were both running up the stairs, and he pulled her against the bedroom door, kissing her passionately as he turned the doorknob—_

Anne sat up in bed, her heart racing. She looked around to find herself back in her little gable room. It was just a dream, she told herself. A dream…

She had been thinking about dreams a lot since their conversation on the boat to Charlottetown. She had sent the revised article off to post as soon as they had reached Carmody, but now what? One of her dearest dreams was accomplished, and now she didn't really know what to do except try to get published again.

She shuddered, remembering how her dreamed had so effortlessly blended her dream of writing with a marriage to Gilbert.

It was completely nonsensical to imagine that just because she had a dream where she was married to Gilbert, it meant that she actually wished for it to happen.

In spite of herself, she smiled fondly at the dream. It was not at all unpleasant. Gilbert was a doctor. She wrote novels. They still talked about literature… She flushed, noticing suddenly how hot she was. He kissed her and held her, and they had children and were going to—

She shook her head vehemently at her train of thought. The only reason she was thinking about any of this was because he put the idea of marriage into her head last night. _Damn his infernal teasing!_ she swore to herself.

But, he said himself that he had imagined it too. Had he imagined it to be as lovely as she did? She fell back on to her bed with a great big sigh, realizing that in all likelihood, he hadn't.

She thought back to the night of the ball when he spoke so gently and sincerely. He never made her feel imperfect or unworthy of his friendship, but she had never been so generous with him. She had never been nearly as forthcoming with compliments or praise as he was, and even when she did compliment him, it was always steeped in sarcasm or teasing.

Her dream had been so affectionate. What would it be like to be so loving toward him in real life? Could loving him really bring her that much happiness?

She growled in frustration to the empty room, covered her face with her pillow. She had to stop thinking about Gilbert and romance, or it would hurt their friendship. _Yes, that's why, Anne,_ she thought unbidden.

"Shut up," she muttered to herself pushing herself out of bed.

* * *

"John Blythe, put your pipe out this minute! We are at dinner—with a guest no less," Clara scolded her husband with a twinkle in her eye.

John sighed, "Yes, Dear, but Anne is hardly a guest here. She's practically a permanent fixture in the house at this point!"

Clara failed to remain stern, "You may be right about that, but there's still no use for smoking at the table."

Anne felt herself blush their comments and caught Gilbert's gaze across the table.

"Well, perhaps not a pipe, Ma, but if Dad wants a cigarette, someone at this table can—" Gilbert began only to receive a swift kick in the knee from a very innocent looking Anne.

Anne saw his parents' eyebrows raise as they looked between the two of them, barely containing their mirth.

She smiled to herself. After her dream the previous night, Anne had felt quite ill at ease greeting Gilbert at the doorway, despite her resolution to ignore any hint of the romantic. The Blythes, however, managed to put her at ease instantly. Clara's warm, motherly instinct and John's wry sense of humor always served to make Anne feel comfortable in the cozy house—not to mention Clara's mouth-watering apple pies.

"Well, Anne, I know Gilbert will be gone for much of the summer, but you must promise to visit when you can. At this point, you're basically family, so don't ever have any qualms about stopping by, even if it's just for tea."

Anne beamed at the older woman. "Thank you, Mrs. Blythe. You're always so kind." Then she turned to Gilbert with a sly smile. "It's just unfortunate your son didn't inherit that particular trait."

Gilbert gave her a look of mock outrage and put his hand on his chest. "Enough of your slander, Miss Shirley, lest we forget who threatened to throw whom overboard on the journey home!"

She giggled, "I promise you, Mr. and Mrs. Blythe. The threat was completely warranted."

John chuckled at their antics. "If you were being ungallant, Son, then it sounds like you were lucky there wasn't a slate on hand."

Clara then addressed Gilbert, suppressing a smile. "Gilbert John Blythe, if I hear of you being anything less than the consummate gentleman, I'll buy Anne the slate myself!" She then turned to Anne, "Do tell me, dear, if I ever need to do so."

Anne threw her head back in laughter, clapping. "Thank you, Mrs. Blythe, but honestly, I don't think Gil knows how to be anything but a consummate gentleman. It is a truth universally acknowledged at Redmond," she said, throwing an unconsciously admiring smile in Gilbert's direction.

"Well, that is what every mother longs to hear about her son, but enough of this Mrs. Blythe business! Please call me Clara," she said, aiming the comment more at Gilbert than at Anne.

John also looked at Gilbert and smirked, "And please call me John as well."

Anne looked at the three of them confusedly as Gilbert's eyes narrowed at his parents. She felts like she was missing something. John winked at his son before turning back to Anne. "So, did you beat out Gilbert this year too, Anne?"

Gilbert looked at his father with an eye-roll, "Dad, they haven't sent out the results yet."

Anne threw him an arch look, "Actually, I stopped at the post office on the way here, and they have indeed sent out the results."

Gilbert smiled cheekily at her, "I'm guessing that look means that you came in first this year again, Anne?"

One side of Anne's mouth lifted. "I did come in first," she began, "in Philosophy and English, but you, Gil, came in first overall."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

Anne nodded, giggling, "Yes, really, Gil. You did it!" Whatever resentment she could have felt toward him disappeared at his expression.

He shook his head, "No, we did it, Anne. I couldn't have done any of it without you."

She gave him a bashful look and tried not to blush. "Well, I couldn't have gotten my article published without your support," she countered, trying her hardest not to crumble under the vulnerability of her sincerity.

Her mind went blank for a moment before Clara cleared her throat. "While I'm certainly glad you two have each other to push each other forward."

Anne watched as Gilbert gave his mother another curious glance and turned to the clock. "Well, it's getting late. Would you care for a walk home, Shirley?"

She nodded and followed him out the door, pausing for just a moment to see John and Clara sharing an amused look.

As the door closed behind them, Anne immediately felt the intensity of Gilbert's presence again, and her mind raced with images of her dream last night.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," he said after a few minutes of silence.

She hoped darkening sky covered her blush. "Sorry, I was just lost in thought."

"Oh? And, what thoughts could those be?" he asked, and she sensed a hint of flirtation in his voice.

She swallowed, trying to come up with an answer. "Just thinking about my dream last night."

"Oh," he sounded pleasantly surprised. "What was it about?"

"Um…," she paused, "I was reading _Frankenstein_ in it."

He looked at her confusedly, "I thought you had already read _Frankenstein_."

"I have, but I was reading it a little before I went to bed, so I guess it was on my mind," she hoped the finality in her tone would make him drop the subject.

"Well, that sounds like a boring dream. Anything else interesting about it?" he asked, picking an apple off the ground and tossing it between his hands.

She paused at this, not really knowing what to reveal. She couldn't tell him about what they were doing in her dream. He would get the wrong idea. No, he didn't need to know. "Well, it was in the future because I had children," she said, trying to sound casual.

She heard the apple he had been holding drop, and the sudden silence beside her caused her to turn her head. "Gil?"

"And you had kids, you say?" His voice was slightly strained.

"Yes. Three, I think," she tried to sound unsure.

His voice was slightly higher when he spoke next. "So, I presume you were married in this dream?"

She blanched and fiddled with the sleeve of her dress. "Yes, but I didn't see who it was," she lied.

"Oh" was all he said.

Not another word was spoken until they reached the gate of Green Gables, and her thoughts raced in the absence of his reassuring conversation.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I'm visiting Diana in the morning, but I'm free in the afternoon," she said, finally finding some mental clarity.

"Fancy a picnic in Dryad's bubble?" he asked a little too lightly.

She nodded at him with a bright smile. "It's a plan. Oh, and thank your parents for this evening. They were so lovely tonight—true kindred spirits!"

He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Well, goodnight then."

Her voice was soft as she watched him walk away, "Goodnight, Gil."

* * *

The next morning, Anne set off toward Orchard Slope in a hurry. She had hardly seen her beloved bosom friend since she had been back and needed to discuss her dream with someone. By the time she reached Orchard Slope, she was out of breath and knocking rapidly on the door. When Diana opened it, Anne's eyes widened in surprise to see a dozen young women standing in the parlor behind her.

"Diana, why are all these people here?"

Her tone was harsher than intended, and Diana frowned. "Did Dora not tell you? This is why I invited you over. I decided to host this little party so you could visit all the girls at once. I'm sorry, Anne. I really thought—"

Anne let out a breath and shook her head, "No, no, Di. Sorry, I just really wanted to talk to you about something on my mind, but it can wait."

Diana looked at her skeptically, but Anne took her hand and squeezed it, flashing a reassuring smile. "Really, Di, this was really thoughtful. I was just caught off guard. We'll talk later."

After having some pleasant conversations with Jane Andrews and Tillie Boulter, Anne was feeling significantly better. She had never truly realized how much she missed some of the people in Avonlea who had played a smaller role in her life. She was always keenly aware of how much she missed Marilla and the twins and Diana—even Mrs. Lynde—but so many of these girls had taught her so much about the trials of girlhood and PEI customs. Sure, they never quite understood her as well as Gilbert did or appreciated her like Diana had, but they were her friends.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised, Anne. If anyone from Avonlea was ever to be published, it would have been you," Jane said with an approving smile. "I just never thought it would be about something as conventional as child-rearing!"

Anne couldn't help but laugh. They saw her as such a rebel yet she could only imagine their reactions if they heard some of the ideas that she had been exposed to at college!

"Well, we all have to start somewhere, Jane. Maybe next time around I'll write a piece about burning corsets!" Anne teased.

The girls giggled uproariously. "So you're planning to publish another piece?"

"Well, it's always been a dream of mine to publish a work of fiction—a short story or maybe even a novel—but I'll see what opportunities come my way," she said with a proud smile.

Diana matched her friend's pride, linking her arm through Anne's. "I can't wait for the day until I can have a shelf with book spines, reading Anne Shirley!"

Anne's smile widened before suddenly dropping as she caught something Josie Pye was saying behind her. "…known Gilbert to court anyone."

"Really?" responded another voice Anne did not recognize. "Why do they think he's courting someone now?"

Josie's voice was conspiratorial. "Gertie was at the post office a couple days ago at the same time as Gilbert, and he received a rather thick letter from a Miss Christine Stuart from Kingsport!"

"But, he was only there four days ago! She must have sent it the day he left!"

"That's what Gertie and I figured," Josie said imperiously. "What man receives a letter from a single woman he just saw two days before unless he had some intentions toward her?"

"Well, if he keeps receiving frequent letters from her throughout the summer, we'll have our answer," said the unknown girl.

Josie laughed knowingly. "But, that's where it gets interesting! Our dear Gilbert isn't staying in Avonlea for the summer, he's going to be working in Kingsport—right near this mysterious Miss Stuart!"

"Wow! I always thought he and—"

"Anne!" Diana's concerned voice brought her back to the conversation at hand. "Are you alright?"

Anne nodded dismissively, trying to hide the anxiety that was filling her body. "Yes, sorry, I'm a bit exhausted from all the travel this week. What were you saying, Tillie?"

Tillie gave a bashful smile. "Well, Diana said that all of your book spines would say Anne _Shirley_. Are you even planning to get married?"

Anne felt her heart drop to her stomach as she considered this. Would her reaction have been different even a moment before? The only man—real man, at least—she had ever even imagined marrying was now corresponding with a beautiful, elegant, and charming young woman from a wealthy family. The past few days, it was as if her fears about ever losing him had always been unfounded. She had never felt closer to him nor so conflicted about the nature of her feeling for him. Now what? Was she misreading everything? Was she projecting her feelings on to him?

Anne suddenly, impulsively let out a reckless chuckle. "Maybe, if I can ever find a man who would want to marry me."

Tillie and Jane laughed, but she didn't miss the look of concern on Diana's face. "Anne, would you like to take a turn with me outside?" she grabbed Anne's arm and turned to the other girls. "Excuse us for a moment."

Once Diana had pulled Anne on to the veranda, she narrowed her eyes. "Tell me what's going on, now."

"Please, Diana. I really just need some air. I might walk back to Green Gables. I don't think I'm prepared for any more socializing today," she said, only trying to escape.

"Anne, I know you better than this!"

"Please, Di. I just need to take a walk," she pleaded. "Please."

Taking pity on her dear friend, she released Anne's hand and stepped back. "Fine, but I expect you to tell me what's going on as soon as you're feeling better."

Anne nodded vigorously. "I promise! Please, apologize to everyone for me!" she said, turning to run toward the woods.

* * *

Gilbert was not overly surprised when Anne did not show up for their picnic on time. She had always been prone to losing track of time; however, when Anne still hadn't appeared by tea time, he decided to head home. She probably lost track of time with Diana again.

Making his way throughout the Haunted Wood, he pondered how far he had come with Anne in such a short time. She was confiding in him more than ever, getting close to his parents, and blushing at his teasing comments! However, last night's conversation hung in his mind. She had clearly been uncomfortable talking about marriage and children with him. The tension had been palpable, as if he could feel a stretched wire between the two of them pulling them closer to one another.

It was confusing—she had always been a bit confusing—but her reluctance to see him as a lover was beginning to make more sense to him.

He had always known that she was insecure. He knew of her childhood neglect and abuse, the bullying she had experienced in their school years, and single minded views of what a romantic heroine looked like. But, she was so confident and fierce and funny that he sometimes forgot that she had ever seen herself as inferior to anyone. His heart broke the night of the ball as he realized how insecure she still was.

That night had reframed his love for her profoundly. Maybe his problem wasn't that he did not act like a romantic suitor but that Anne could not see herself as the object of anyone's romantic desire.

His train of thought was cut off by the familiar sound of crying from behind a tree. "Anne?" he called.

The sniffling stopped abruptly, but she made no sound as he found her curled up against tree. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, bending down to sit next to her.

She groaned when her eyes met his. "Oh, our picnic! I completely forgot!"

He shook his head. "It's not a problem. I'm more concerned with what's making my beautiful, wonderful best friend cry," he said trying to give her a reassuring smile.

At this, she let out another sob, and his eyes opened in alarm. "What is it?" he said frantically.

She looked at him for a moment wearily before composing herself, and her voice was surprisingly emotionless when she spoke next. "It's nothing, Gil. It's just…" she paused, "that time of the month."

He frowned for a moment, remembering her only complaining about it two weeks ago but quickly set that thought aside. "Well, that only leaves me one thing to do."

She looked at him with a confused expression, and he elaborated. "I'm going to have to buy you some sweets from the mercantile."

The smile that she gave him did not reach her eyes, and she looked as if she was about to burst into tears again. He offered his arm to her, but his heart sank as she didn't even look his way.

* * *

On his last day in Avonlea, Gilbert sat in his kitchen alone, picking at his breakfast. Over the past few days, he had become increasingly worried as Anne's behavior changed. They still saw each other every day, and she was generally cheerful, but they were rarely alone. Diana and Fred or Davy and Dora were always with them; and when it was just the two of them, an indescribable veil would fall over her.

He recalled a moment the day before as Davy and Dora were leaving to go cherry picking. "Bye, Anne! Bye, Gil!" he had called as he left the door.

"Bye, you two! And, remember, if you don't come back with at least five baskets, I'm not letting you inside!" she called back with a bright grin.

The moment they no longer heard Davy's bright whistle, the smile slipped from her face, and she became uncomfortably silent as she fiddled with the hem of her apron. "I'm just glad you're sending the twins to do your cherry-picking instead of me. I've never met anyone so picky about their cherries!" he teased.

She looked at him with a far-off look. "I sent the twins because I needed to stay here and begin preparing the pie crusts."

She hardly said another word as she stood to make the pie dough. He helped her silently, passing her ingredients and tools, noticing the way she seemed to be in her own separate world. An hour later, he left with a quick goodbye and hurried home anxiously.

She had been like that every moment they had spent together since that day he had found her in the woods. He was dying to talk to her—really talk to her. The distance between them filled him with a biting loneliness. She was his best friend, his favorite person, the love of his life; and he was leaving today. He wouldn't see her for over two months. How could he leave her when he felt like she was suffering and pushing him away because of it?

He looked down at his half-eaten breakfast and pushed himself away from the table decisively before walking out the door in the direction of Green Gables.

The sun was still rising when he arrived, and he bypassed the front door and came around to the back of the house with a pebble in his hand. When he lifted his head to throw the pebble at her bedroom window, he saw her head in the window, writing furiously. He dropped the pebble and waved.

She caught his eye, nodded, and disappeared from view.

She emerged from the house after what seemed like an eternity. She was already dressed, but her hair was still in her messy nighttime braid and her eyes were red and swollen. "Gil, what are you doing here? I though I was going to meet you at your house at eight."

He shook his head. "I thought I needed to say goodbye alone—without my parents."

She rubbed her forearm and looked at the ground. "Alright."

He took her free hand in his and pulled her toward him. She finally made eye contact, and he saw the desolation in her eyes. He held her hand in both of his and stroked it gently. "Anne, please promise me you'll write."

"Do you think I won't?" He could hear the hurt in her voice.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I know something's going on that you're not telling me about, and that's okay; but you have to know that I care about you and that I couldn't live if you were suffering because of me."

Her eyes were shiny as she pulled him in for a fierce hug. "You have never made me suffer. Any suffering I have ever attributed to you is my own fault."

Her assertiveness caught him off guard, and when she pulled away, he met her fierce gaze. "Gilbert Blythe, there is nothing I want more than your happiness because you are the best person I know. Now, stop worrying about me, and go enjoy your summer adventure in Kingsport."

He snorted. "As if I could have an adventure without you."

Her eyes crinkled, and she smiled wryly. "You will have plenty of adventures without me in your lifetime, Gil, but I'll be here when you need me."

His heart constricted at the first real smile he had seen from her in days, and he took the moment of affection to cup her cheek in his hand. "Promise me you'll tell me if you are sad or lonely or you need anything? You know you can tell me anything."

Her face crumpled as she leaned into his hand slightly and nodded. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, and he marveled at how something as small as that tear could confuse him to no end. Wanting to lighten the mood, he pulled his hand away and took her hand. "Well, then, I'll see you in ten weeks! Be sure you'll recognize me, as I'm planning to grow a beard and maybe get a haircut."

He grinned as she choked out a laugh through her tears. "Don't you dare, or I'll tell your mother about the first time you tried whisky," her voice husky with tears.

He laughed gaily and hugged her to him tightly. "Fine, Shirley. Then, I'll be sure to shave everyday," he said softly.

When he pulled away, there was a strange air hanging between them as he held on to one of her hands. She bit her lip and avoided his gaze. "Well—uh, I guess I'll see you in Kingsport," she said dazedly.

Suddenly, he didn't know what to do. "Yes," he responded absently, "Kingsport." Another strange silence passed between them for a moment. "I'll miss you."

She squeezed his hand and dropped it. "I'll miss you too."

As she took a step back, he almost felt like part of him had fallen off of his body. "Goodbye, Gil."

"Bye, Anne."

Not another word was spoken as he watched her turn and retreat back into the house, feeling as if he knew less about her feelings now than yesterday.

* * *

 _Well, there you go! 8K words of tension, misunderstanding, and miscommunication! Hope you all enjoyed and let me know why you think Anne's acting rather strange!_

 _Up next (maybe depending on whether I can condense some stuff): Gil and Anne acclimate to life apart, John and Clara speculate, and Anne visits Phil!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Many apologies for the delay! As many of you know, I work insane hours, and as a result, I was dealing with several health problems that led to a short hospitalization (eek!). Thank you to all those who pushed me to finish this chapter which was excruciatingly painful to write! I am now on 8 weeks of vacation before I'm being transferred to a new country for work (on the other side of the world)! Therefore, I have much more time to write what my favorite chapter in this story (six)! Hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 _June 3rd_

 _…Of course, I'm glad my parents are well, but what I really want to know is how you are doing. I never realized how dull a city Kingsport is when you have no one to share it with. The Kingsport that I love is Anne Shirley's Kingsport—where every alley has a story and every tree has a unique spirit! Unfortunately for me, I am wholly incapable of conjuring the beautiful Kingsport of your imagination by myself._

 _I haven't made too many friends at the paper yet, but there's another student from Redmond—Johnathan Greene. Do you know of him? He's a year ahead of us. He seems to be a nice enough chap but keeps to himself, and I don't think he's here to make friends._

 _Luckily for me, I'm having dinner with the Stuarts next week, after Ronald returns from a trip to Boston. He says his parents have heard a lot about me and excited to host me for an evening; though, I can't imagine why…_

Anne sighed and looked around the Blythe parlor after reading his letter for the fifth time and finding herself still unsure how to respond. Of course, the Stuarts would be excited to meet him! He was going to be their future son-in-law! How could she respond to him about the very thing that would take him away from her? How could she feign excitement about his budding relationship with Christine while watching him replace her with a woman who could give him so much more?

She had promised him to wri _te, but she hadn't sent him a letter in two weeks while he had sent her two in the same time frame—with a third on its way, no doubt!_

 _She turned her attention to his latest letter, which made her feel even worse._

 _June 8th_

 _I finally got Johnathan to talk to me! He invited me out to the pub around the corner from the office after work one night, and we chatted about Redmond and our ambitions for a while. He even confided in me that he has a secret finance back in New Brunswick that he's hoping to marry when he saves up enough money! He wants to continue working at the paper, as he's quite political—which is a bit of a shortcoming of mine, I must admit. I've learned quite a bit from him, though! He lived in the States for a while, and I'm learning so much from him about current events. I almost fear that he'll turn me into a Grit! (Only a joke, Shirley. I don't want to dig Dad an early grave!)_

 _Dinner with the Stuarts was lovely, and I was humbled at the way Christine and Ronald talked about me in front of their parents. Her father was particularly interested in my plans for medicine. I felt a little awkward, as I rarely talk about such things with anyone except for you, but he seemed quite engaged. I think perhaps he has a penchant for science!_

 _Please, let me know how you are doing. I received a letter from mother yesterday, saying that everyone in town has been bombarding you with opinions about your article. Oh, please let me know what Mrs. Lynde and Mrs. Andrews said! I can almost hear their disapproving tones now!_

 _You already know, of course, that I loved it, but imagine my surprise when Johnathan mentioned that he was the one who edited your article! He claimed that it was the easiest edit he had ever done because the grammar was perfect (obviously) and it was brilliantly written! You can imagine my pride when I was able to tell him in no uncertain manner that "this brilliant article" he spoke of was written by my best friend…_

She smiled sadly at his final words. He was so proud of her, but she wondered how long that pride would last once he married Christine.

She was almost angry at his letter. Was he honestly that dense? Thinking that Mr. Stuart was interested in his plans for medicine because he had a penchant for science! Of course not, she thought. Gilbert was easily one of the most intelligent people she knew. He was just building a life outside of her now—hiding things from her, omitting his feelings.

When Anne confided in Diana about Gilbert and Christine's relationship, Anne was incensed that Diana suggested that Anne was imagining the whole thing.

"Anne, what evidence do you actually have that Gilbert and Christine have any sort of understanding?"

"You should have seen them dancing together at the ball, Di! They were laughing, and she put her hand on his chest—in public—only minutes after their first meeting! Then, she writes him only a few days later, and he doesn't tell me about it!"

Diana rolled her eyes, "Did you ever think that he didn't tell you he received a letter from her because it wasn't important?"

"He tells me _everything_ , Di. I know he didn't tell me about this letter on purpose, and now he's being evasive about meeting her family! He knows that this will change everything, but he's being kind about it!"

"You're not making any sense. Anne, don't you think you might be reading into all of this too much?"

Anne shook her head vehemently. "He's purposely evasive about Christine when he's never evasive about anything! He's building a life outside of me, but he still wants to be my friend! He's just being naïve, though. What man is allowed to have a woman for his best friend after he's married? I almost wish he would just tell me what he's saying."

She knew her voice was becoming faster and more emotive as she spoke, but she found she couldn't think rationally.

Diana's smirk had made Anne even angrier. "Well, why are you surprised then? You've always known that your friendship would have to change at some point when Gilbert married someone—unless, you had always expected that someone to be you," she said knowingly.

"Of course not!" Anne spat.

Diana's look turned serious as she took Anne's hands in her own. "Would it really be so bad to admit that you may love him?"

Anne stared at her beloved friend for what seemed like an eternity as unbidden thoughts crept into her mind. Yes, she thought in spite of herself. The recent weeks with Gilbert had weakened her long-held assertion that she had absolutely no romantic attachment to him, and then, without warning, the illusions she had built up in her mind shattered. She felt her heart sink to her stomach and tears prickle behind her eyes, as she admitted her love for the first time. "I can't, Diana. I really can't do it. I need our friendship. He can't give me anything more than that, and at least for now, I can't survive with any less."

She looked up at the feeling of Diana's hand on her shoulder. "Anne, I once promised you that I would never bring this up, but I need you to know that Gilbert is in love with you. I've seen it in his eyes—he loves you deeply."

A tear slipped from her eye as she looked at her beloved bosom friend in bewilderment. "There were a few moments when I thought it could be true, but Diana, I promise if you saw Christine, you would understand too."

"But—"

"Di, it's okay. He's my friend, and that's all I want," she said, trying to reassure her friend.

Anne groaned in humiliation thinking about her confession to Diana the day before. _Gil is my friend and that's all I'll ever want him to be_ , she tried to tell herself, but the illusion had been shattered. She was deeply in love with Gilbert Blythe.

"Are you alright, Dear?"

Anne looked up with a start, realizing that Clara must have entered the room at some point. "Oh—I—I was just reading Gil's most recent letter. I still need to send a response.," she said casually

"And how is he—truly?" she asked, putting down her pile of mending and looking Anne in the eye. "I sometimes worry that he's not telling us how he's actually doing."

Anne suddenly felt alert. "What do you mean?"

Clara smiled dryly. "Gilbert was always such an intuitive boy.. He knew what we wanted to hear and see from him, so he would do it, but that often meant that he wouldn't tell us when something was wrong. When he was in Alberta, he would write me about all the fun things he was doing, even if John's letters proved differently. And, even when he came back, we knew he was having trouble adjusting, but he would come home with a smile on his face and a funny story about his day."

She returned her gaze to her mending before continuing, "It used to be easier to read what he wasn't saying, but now?" She looked up at Anne with a knowing look, "I figured you might know better than I."

Anne bit her cheek as she fought the sudden urge to cry at the words that essentially confirmed her fears. After a moment, she managed to conjure a smile. "I think he's quite happy in Kingsport. He seems to have made many friends—I hardly think he misses us."

Clara smirked. "I'm sure that's not true. I doubt you're ever far from his thoughts."

Anne smiled ruefully. Clara and John had quite obviously hinted over the past three weeks that they considered Anne like a daughter-in-law and very much hoped she would become one. She wished she could tell them that they were hoping in vain, but as much as she hated to admit it, she found relief in the illusion.

Choosing to pass over her hinting comment, Anne genuinely smiled. "Either way, Clara, you should know that Gil is fine from his experiences in Alberta and afterward. He grew up during that time, but I can tell you he sees that time in his life as one of the reasons he's the man he is today, and he credits you both in modeling that strength and courage for him."

Clara gave Anne a watery smile, and her voice was soft when she spoke. "Thank you, dear. I cannot tell you what that means to me." She cleared her throat once to compose herself. "Now, would you like to stay for tea?"

Anne smiled and shook her head, "No, thank you. I promised Marilla I would be home by tea time, but I will stop by on Sunday before I leave for Bolingbrook."

"Alright then, dear. Please give our regards to Rachel and Marilla."

"Of course. Goodbye, Clara."

As soon as Anne closed the door, she sprinted to Hester's Garden and leaned against a tree, breaking into sobs.

She had been right. He was keeping things from her to reassure her. It was so him to make her think that everything was still the same—that they were still the same. But, she needed to face what was changing. She couldn't continue crying all the time and dreaming about something she would never have. She needed his friendship, but she also needed him to tell her the truth. There's only one thing to do, she thought.

She sighed and pulled out her pen and a piece of paper.

 _Dear Gil,…_

* * *

"What's got you looking so down, Blythe?"

Gilbert looked up to see Johnathan leaning over his desk with a smirk. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I got a letter today—"

Johnathan's face suddenly shifted to concern.

"From Anne."

Johnathan let out a loud laugh and slapped him on the back. "Good God, Blythe! I thought someone had died!"

At Gilbert's unamused look, he continued, "What's the matter? You've been looking forward to her letters like they're Christmas!"

"I know, but there's something strange about it again. Sometime since that day when she forgot about our picnic, something has been wrong, and she won't tell me! I can feel it in every interaction with her, and it's driving me to distraction!" he said exasperatedly.

Johnathan sighed, "Are you sure you're not imagining it? From what you've told me and the gossip I've heard around campus, you two are as good as engaged!"

Gilbert had heard enough. He thought about all the mixed signals, nearly every unoccupied moment of every day. "Here," he held out the letter.

Johnathan took it with an eye-roll in Gilbert's direction and began to read the letter. Gilbert anxiously tore up a piece of paper as Jonathan read, unable to watch his friend's face. At Johnathan's chuckle, Gilbert looked up suddenly. "What is it?"

"I'm glad you haven't been converted, Gil. You do realize that I would have to tell your parents if you became a liberal, and I'm not sorry to say that they would make you sleep out in the barn. After all, you must remember what Mrs. Andrews would say 'no respectable young lady marries a Grit!'" Johnathan recited, barely containing his humor.

"Ha, ha," Gilbert deadpanned. "Yes, a joke at your expense. You made me think you actually had some insight!"

Jonathan shook his head. "No, not that, Gil—although the idea that the conservatives have any idea what they're doing is ridiculous," he said, ignoring Gilbert's scowl, "I'm talking about her tone. You two are such flirts—and this is no different!"

Gilbert shook his head with a sad smile, "Read on."

It was a few moments before Johnathan uttered a quiet "ah." In the ten times he had read her short letter, he knew the words by heart. _Gil, just know that you can always be honest with me. Promise me you won't hide the truth from me to spare my feelings. Ever. I hope you respect me enough to give me that. Sincerely, Anne._

"She thinks you're lying about something," Johnathan said quietly.

Gilbert looked down at Johnathan's shoes with a resigned look. "She thinks she knows that I'm hiding something from her, but the only thing I'm hiding from her is that I love her…Do you think she knows?"

Johnathan sighed and sat down on the chair adjacent from him. "I really don't know, Gil, but it sounds like whatever she thinks you're hiding from her will make her sad. Maybe she loves you and thinks that you don't love her and you're holding off from telling her?"

Gilbert laughed bitterly, "I don't think that's possible. If she's aware of my feelings at all, she has to know that I'm mad for her! I've done everything short of saying it to her directly!"

"Love is much more complex than just being aware of someone's feelings, Gil. You know she's insecure—you've told me as much. It's entirely possible that her own image of herself is standing in the way."

"I know, but there's also another scenario. One where she knows I'm in love with her and just wants me to tell her, so she can let me down easily. One that explains why she has started to become so distant," he said, shutting his eyes and holding his head up by his temples.

"Okay, well if you ask me, I think you should just be honest with her. She's being evasive. Just ask her what's wrong."

"It's easy for you to say, Greene. You know that your Maria loves you, and she writes you every week religiously. But, I've seen Anne reject me in my worst nightmares, and I'm not prepared to deal with that reality. I'm not just in love with her. She's my best friend, and if she rejected me, it would ruin our relationship."

Jonathan stood up and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I understand that, but you're going to have to deal with it if you ever want to get our of this purgatory."

Gilbert sighed, "I know. Are you doing anything right now? I think I'll go crazy if I go back to my boarding house now."

Johnathan smiled, "No, come on. Let's go to the pub. You could use a cider."

Gilbert laughed half-heartedly as he picked up his jacket, "You really will be the one to estrange me from my parents."

* * *

Two weeks after sending Gilbert her last letter, she still had not heard back from him. Was he offended that she even asked? Should she even have told him she knew she was hiding something? Did he even get her not-so-subtle hint? Did he forget she was visiting Phil this week? She pondered this as she stood in the foyer of Mount Holly, waiting for the mail to arrive.

"Boo!" Phil cried, placing her hands on Anne's shoulders from behind.

Anne screamed, and Phil dissolved into giggles. "Phillipa Gordon, you better sleep with one eye open tonight!"

"Oh, Anne," Phil sighed. "I didn't mean to truly scare you. I just thought you needed to unwind a bit before today."

She sighed, "Perhaps, I do." Anne's shoulders dropped as she contemplated what the next hour would bring—returning to her birth place for the first time since her parents' death. It was the one thing that could take her mind off of Gilbert these days, but as much as she loved Phil, she wished that he was there with her—to help her through this process. He was the only one who knew her complex feelings regarding her parents—her desire to know them and feel connected to them while simultaneously wishing that Matthew and Marilla were enough to quench her desire to know her blood relations. Still, she was glad Phil was there to help her get through this regardless.

"We don't have to do this if you're not ready, Darling," Phil said, taking her hand on one of hers.

Anne shook her head decidedly, "No, I'm doing this today. I _want_ to do this."

"Okay, let me just get my hat!" Phil said as only Phil could, and Anne smiled.

* * *

The first thing Anne smelled as she stepped out of the buggy was the overpowering scent of lilac, and she smiled as she gazed upon the little yellow house, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. She felt Phil squeeze her hand and looked over to her friend who wore a reassuring smile. "It's almost exactly as I've pictured it. There is no honeysuckle over the windows, but there is a lilac tree by the gate, and —yes, there are the muslin curtains in the windows. How glad I am it is still painted yellow!"

Phil laughed gaily. "Now, there's the Anne Shirley we all know and love! After the past couple weeks, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you waxing poetic about the color yellow."

Had she truly been so noticeably dour? Her train of thought dropped the moment she saw an angular face peek through the curtains. Collecting herself, she made her way to the front of the house and knocked.

A very tall, very thin woman opened the door.

She felt Phil's supportive warmth behind her as she took a deep breath. "Good afternoon, Ma'am. I do hope I'm not intruding, but I'm inquiring after any information about a couple who once lived here. Walter and Bertha Shirley?"

"Yes, the Shirleys lived here twenty years ago," she said, in answer to Anne's question. "They had it rented. I remember 'em. They both died of fever at once. It was turrible sad. They left a baby. I guess it's dead long ago. It was a sickly thing. Old Thomas and his wife took it—as if they hadn't enough of their own."

"It didn't die," said Anne, smiling ironically. "I was that baby."

"You don't say so! Why, you have grown. Come to look at you, I see the resemblance. You're complected like your pa. He had red hair. But you favor your ma in your eyes and mouth. She was a nice little thing. My darter went to school to her and was nigh crazy about her. They was buried in the one grave and the School Board put up a tombstone to them as a reward for faithful service. Will you come in?"

As she stepped inside the house, she caught a bit of her reflection in the mirror, hanging next to the door, and nearly cried at the sight of it. Someone thought she resembled her parents! The thought nearly made her heart burst with pride.

At the old woman's insistence, Anne went up the narrow stairs and into a little east room with a full heart. It was like a shrine to her. Here, her mother had dreamed the exquisite, happy dreams of anticipated motherhood; here that red sunrise light had fallen over them both in the sacred hour of birth. Here, her mother had died. Anne looked about her reverently, her eyes with tears.

"Just to think of it - mother was younger than I am now when I was born," she whispered to herself, having left Phil outside to make this sojourn on her own.

She traced the window sill, imagining her mother as a woman of thirty-nine, sitting with her knitting and looking down onto the street below, waiting for her to come home from college. Maybe her mother would have seen her father's buggy pulling up the quiet street, and she would come racing down the stairs to embrace her beloved daughter. Maybe, her parents would have tucked her in here, reading her stories and kissing her head with words of love.

In some ways, her daydreams felt so vivid, but at the same time, they felt so fragile, as if they were made of glass. She found she could not separate the "inherent" Anne Shirley from the Anne Shirley raised by Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert—the Anne Shirley who scraped and clawed half of her life to make her dreams a reality. Who would she be without those experiences? Was she better off because of the early tragedy of her life? Was it even worth it to ask such questions?

When Anne went downstairs the lady of the house met her in the hall. She held out a dusty little packet tied with faded blue ribbon.

"Here's a bundle of old letters I found in that closet upstairs when I came here," she said. "I dunno what they are - I never bothered to look in 'em, but the address on the top one is `Miss Bertha Willis,' and that was your ma's maiden name. You can take 'em if you'd keer to have 'em."

"Oh, thank you—thank you," croaked Anne, as tears finally escaped her eyes.

"That was all that was in the house," said her hostess. "The furniture was all sold to pay the doctor bills, and Mrs. Thomas got your ma's clothes and little things. I reckon they didn't last long among that drove of Thomas youngsters. They was destructive young animals, as I mind 'em."

"I haven't one thing that belonged to my mother," said Anne, chokily. "I—I can never thank you enough for these letters."

"You're quite welcome. Laws, but your eyes is like your ma's. She could just about talk with hers. Your father was sorter homely but awful nice. I mind hearing folks say when they was married that there never was two people more in love with each other - Pore creatures, they didn't live much longer; but they was awful happy while they was alive, and I s'pose that counts for a good deal."

Anne gave the woman a watery smile and nodded gently in agreement. "Thank you so much for allowing me in to your home and for keeping the letters and—for everything, I suppose. You are a true kindred spirit, Mrs.—?"

"Crawford," the woman replied, with a reluctant smile.

"Yes, Mrs. Crawford. You are a true kindred spirit, and you have touched my life today more than you could ever know," she said, taking the woman's frail hands and letting her joyful tears fall freely down her.

"Well—I'm glad that I could be o' service, Miss," she said, nodding her head. "Hev' a nice day, now."

Anne exited the house to see Phil, sitting on the creaky, wood steps of the porch. "Are you alright, Honey?" Phil asked gently, seeing Anne's teary face.

"Yes, I am," she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "But, do you mind if I spend the rest of the afternoon alone? I think I may walk to the cemetery, and I'll return to Mount Holly before dinner."

Phil nodded with a gentle look. "Of course, do what you need."

* * *

Anne's mind was quietly occupied as she made her way to the old Bolingbrook Cemetery, picking little white flowers as she went. The breeze was gentle and cool, and the sun was softly covered by clouds when she finally sat before a small overgrown plot underneath a stately willow tree.

 _Walter and Birth Shirley 1844-1864_ was all she could make out in the tombstone, already beginning to crumble after only twenty years of standing. She left her little nosegay in front of the tombstone as she crossed her legs and sat down on the dewey grass and began to read her parents' letters with trembling hands.

The first one she read was dated over a year before her birth—written by his father when he had gone to stay with his uncle's family for a month during their engagement.

 _I wish I was there with you. You've never been particularly good at keeping house—last time your aunt was ill like this, I remember you were in sight a flight of fancy that you nearly let the house burn down._

Anne laughed aloud at this linen—thinking of a mother as imaginative as herself.

 _More seriously, though, my dear, I could not care a dash if you were the worst cook in the world or if you couldn't sew a stitch. As long as I have your silvery laugh to accompany me for the rest of my days, I will be a happy man._

Another letter was no more than a note her mother must have slipped into her father's satchel with several treats.

 _Wally—_

 _Good luck on your first day back at school today. Please enjoy the apple tarts (They're only slightly burnt on the bottom) and be sure to tell the children that I miss them!_

 _Our own wild child is sleeping peacefully in my belly for once, perhaps only assuaged by a couple apple tarts!_

 _Love,_

 _B_

The last letter from her mother was dated June 29th, 1864, giving Anne pause as she considered that these could have been the last sentences her mother has ever written.

 _…You were right, of course, Wally. I am obsessed with our baby. I find I cannot stop looking at her. She is simply the most precious thing to ever grace God's green Earth! And, I am quite certain now that she recognizes us. Since you have been gone, she ignores all other pictures in the house except the drawing your brother did of you before we got married. She'll reach out and wave at the picture and gurgle with a bright smile—she knows her papa!_

 _We are both anxiously awaiting your return, my beloved husband._

 _Love,_

 _B_

 _P.S. Our darling little angel is sleeping as I pen this letter, and I am now convinced that I love her best when she is asleep and better still when she is awake._

At her mother's affectionate words, Anne dissolved into sobs over her parents' graves. They had loved her before she had anything to offer—before she had ever had to prove her worth. She was born of a beautiful and pure love—a devoted and reciprocated love she could only dream of.

Once her sobs had subsided, she suddenly felt the urge to speak—to introduce herself—to her parents. She felt their ghosts by her side at that moment and began to tell them everything she could remember from her childhood to the present day.

"…Today has taught me that I love you both, even if I do not remember you. I want a love like yours someday, but as I told you, I'm in love with someone who cannot love me back. If I cannot find a love like yours, though, I think I'll continue to honor your legacy by teaching and writing. But, please know that no matter what I'll strive to make you two proud."

Suddenly, a gust of wind brought several leaves falling down on her from above, and she knew it was time to leave.

She stood up, whispering "I love you," before turning and walking out of the cemetery.

* * *

Having found some closure in visiting her parents' house and grave, her final days in Bolingbrook passed with much more enjoyment than the previous ones had. She had not told Phil all that the letters contained, but she shared a little about how much the experience had meant to her. With that, she had left the place of her birth with a gentle smile as the train carried her across the Nova Scotia countryside.

Reflecting upon her journey in her journal, she wrote:

 _As much as I wish I could share this with Gil, I'm not sure if I can still burden him with such things. I think of how Christine might react to discovering all the intimate secret's I've shared with her beau, and I doubt she would be too happy about it. Still, for the time being—-_

"Last stop, Kingsport!"

She promptly closed her journal and grabbed her suitcase before making her way down the streets of Kingsport to the harbor, vaguely wondering what Gilbert would be doing at this moment—only on the other side of town.

She pushed the thought out of her mind as she made her way to the ticketing counter. "May I please have a one-way passage to Charlottetown?"

"Nope," said the man behind the counter, casually.

"Excuse me?" Anne asked angrily, her temper getting the better of her propriety.

"No boat to P.E.I. today," he said nonchalantly.

"But, there's always a boat to Charlottetown on Tuesdays," she said impatiently.

"Not today there isn't. There's a problem with one of the boilers. Next boat goes out tomorrow at 10 a.m. Look's like you're stuck here until tomorrow."

Anne's face grew hot with anger before realizing there was nothing she could do.

"And," she looked up at the man who had continued to speak for some reason, "if you need a place to stay, my buddy Jem has a place that he rents out to needy travelers."

Anne glared at the man before turning on her heel out of the building and on to the street. She hadn't planned for this! Davy was expecting to pick her up tonight on the late train. Where was she supposed to go? _Patty's Place, of course_ , she answered for herself.

And, suddenly, unbidden she realized that she was in the same city as Gilbert for the first time in six weeks—and the first time since she admitted to herself that she was in love with him. Would this be the last time she would see him before he would propose to Christine? Quite possibly.

She looked at the clock above the station's door—four o' clock. Making a bold decision, she hailed a taxi. The moment she got inside of the cab, she spoke, "Spofford Ave, as quickly as you can."

* * *

 _Haha! How many of you expected that one? I know many of you did not want their separation to last, so I'm happy I get to break this one up a little bit. The next chapter is one of the first moments that I imagined in my head, and I practically have the whole thing written (as opposed to this chapter which I spent a whopping 18 hours writing)!_

 _Please let me know what you all think! Juaxn and ninabtw were the people who really pushed me to finished this God forsaken chapter._

 _Finally, please note that a section of this chapter was taken from Chapter XXI of Anne of the Island with a few edits from me to make it seem more personal and closer to my writing style._

 _Up next: Anne's bold decision (don't get too excited, folks), Gil gets a surprise!_


	6. Chapter 6

_And without further ado, over 7000 words of perhaps the fluffiest and angst-iest chapter yet! And only two weeks after I posted the last one!_

 _A big thank you to Lavinia Maxwell, Juaxn, and DrinkThemIn for reviewing! You guys are the only reason I was able to finish this chapter at all!_

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Aunt Jimsie had been at Patty's Place, as expected, and more than willing to take Anne in for the night. After a short, matter-of-fact conversation, Aunt Jimsie sent Anne off to her room to rest. "Will you be wanting dinner, dear?" Aunt Jimsie called after her.

"I'm actually going to be visiting a friend tonight. Thank you, though," she replied.

Yet, after finally sitting down and resting for the first time that day in her little blue room, she began to doubt what she was about to do. She wanted to visit Gilbert—to tell him all about her parents, to laugh and joke with him, to just be in his presence as his best friend once more before everything changed. Would he even want to see her—did he have plans? What if he heeded her words in her last letter and was going to tell her about Christine? Was it even right for her to want to spend an evening with a man she was in love with when she knew he would be promised to someone else? Her heart constricted at the thought.

She looked at the clock on her desk, knowing she had to make a decision now. Gilbert would be leaving work in fifteen minutes. He would be hurt if he found out she was in Kingsport and did not reach out, and she knew she had to see him—if only to just be near him for a little while.

Quickly changing into her best green dress and retying her hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, she made herself look as presentable as possible before racing out the door with a quick cheek kiss for Aunt Jimsie.

Walking down the streets of Kingsport to _The Daily News_ building, she felt less anxious than she expected as her excitement slowly overtook her fear. Arriving in front of the large brick building, she paused to see several men shuffling out of the building—none of them Gilbert.

"Excuse me," she said to one of the men, "do you know of a man named Gilbert Blythe who works here?"

The man looked slightly dumbfounded, and she furrowed her brow slightly before the man shook his head slightly. "You're Anne Shirley!" he said with wide eyes.

Anne was taken aback. "Yes, and how do you know that?"

The man smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Johnathan Greene. I go to Redmond with you and Gilbert."

Anne smiled then and took Johnathan's hand, "Oh yes, Gilbert has told me about you. Do you know where he is?"

Johnathan's grin was mischievous as he stuck his head back into the building and called, "Oh, Blythe! I have something here I think you'll want to see!"

* * *

Gilbert had been depositing his edits for the day on his supervisor's desk when Johnathan's voice startled him into dropping all his papers on the floor. He angrily picked the papers up and sloppily placed them in their appropriate place before leaving the building.

He opened the door as he spoke, "Good God, man. You nearly ruined a full-day's—-Anne!"

His eyes widened as Anne stood, as beautiful as ever, only a few feet from him. He felt his ridiculous grin but couldn't find it in himself to care as he ran to embrace her fiercely, swinging her around once before setting her back on the ground.

Anne's laugh was like music as she stood in front of him with a becoming blush. Suddenly feeling sheepish, he rubbed the back of his neck and flashed her an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. I was just surprised, and you were here—and you were so—and…you're here!" he finished lamely.

Anne giggled again, nodding, "Yes, I am here, Gil."

He was still too shocked and overjoyed to be tactful, and his mind was racing. _Is this a dream? Why is she blushing like that?_ "Why—I mean, why are you here now?"

Her bashful look made Gilbert weak at the knees. "Well, I was coming back from Bolingbrook, and there was a problem with the ship to Charlottetown, so I'm stuck here until ten o' clock tomorrow morning. And, I guess I thought I should visit you because I haven't seen you in so long…" He was dumbstruck. Was this real? It felt real.

"Gil?" she said, pulling his attention back to her words, "I hope I'm not imposing. You don't have to do anything. I mean, I know it's a surprise and everything and you may have plans—"

"I do now," he cut her off, finally finding his words. "You and I are going to go to dinner."

Nothing was said for a moment as Anne beamed at him, but their reverie was short-lived as Johnathan cleared his throat.

"Ah, Johnathan, would you—uh—care to join us?" he said, hoping that Johnathan understood the murderous look he wore.

"No. Thank you, Blythe," he said with a knowing smile. "As much as I would like to meet the illustrious Anne Shirley, who—in my humble opinion—wrote the best op-ed ever submitted to this paper," he winked here, "I'm afraid I am otherwise engaged this evening."

"What a shame! And, here I was hoping to hear all about every embarrassing thing Gil's done in the past few weeks!" she said with a charming smirk, making Johnathan laugh.

"Blythe, you didn't tell me she was so harsh!" he said, placing a hand on his chest in mock surprise.

Gilbert turned his head back to Anne to give her a fond look. "You'll find that no man's confidence is truly safe around her."

Before his eyes, her expression became somewhat pained, and he wondered what he did wrong.

"Anyway, good night, you two," Johnathan called, but Gilbert didn't look away from Anne's face. Was she thinking about the last letter she had sent? Maybe it was better to just address it now that they were alone.

"Anne, about your last letter—" he began.

"Please, let's not talk about that letter," she cut him off quickly with a pleading look. "I didn't know what I was saying, and I just want to have an enjoyable evening."

He nodded with a smile, holding his arm to escort her down the street and willing himself to just put aside any thoughts regarding their relationship. They were together now, and he was going to enjoy it for all it's worth.

"So, where to now?" he asked casually, hoping to break the strange veil that had fallen over them when Johnathan left.

"Come on, Gil," she said playfully, "Don't tell me you've forgotten all our Kingsport haunts already?"

"Not a chance," he grinned, knowing immediately to where she was referring. "There's a shortcut from here," he said, pulling her toward a small side street behind _The Daily News_ building.

* * *

Louie's was legendary among Redmond's students for having the best and most affordable food. Over the past two years, Anne and Gilbert had become regulars there, having lunch or dinner there at least once a week.

"Anne, Gilbert! I didn't expect to see either of you here on summer holidays!" a man boomed as they walked in.

"Hello, Louie. You are a sight for sore eyes," she replied charmingly.

"I am indeed! Are you two okay with the corner table at the back?"

He nodded, and as Louie brought them back to the table, he pondered the utter impossibility of the past twenty minutes. This morning he had resigned himself to a perfectly boring day of doing repetitive work and going home to his lonely little room, wondering when she would send her next letter. Now, he sat across from her, looking more pleased to be with him than she ever had. All of her coldness from May had disappeared, and she was smiling and laughing like the charismatic woman he always knew she was.

"Anne, I have to admit. It seems a little surreal to be sitting here across from you right now. I'm so happy to see you, but I think the shock is rendering me a bit tongue-tied," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm very happy to be here too. I really missed you, and I know I was a bit of a mess when you left Avonlea. But, I ended up here, and I had so much to tell you, and…I don't know."

Her smile was so sweet as she spoke that he almost felt as if his love was being reflected back at him. The feeling was intoxicating, and in a moment of confidence, he took one of her hands in his and squeezed in gently.

"Well, ramble away, Shirley. I want to hear everything about the past few weeks."

With an imperious smile, she recited a long list of all the embarrassing stories his parents had told her about his childhood over the past several weeks—her relationship with his parents warming his heart, despite his deep blush. He was in stitches as she cleverly recounted an anecdote about a series of pranks Davy had played on Mrs. Lynde. He would continually hide her things for a few minutes, only to put them back after she had gone around the house looking for them.

He went on to tell her all about his experience working for the paper—the various writers, editors, and advertisers—with a particularly funny story about an advertiser who came into yell at Gilbert about an unfortunate typo that he had made in printing the last letter in the word "pen."

"And, how was Bolingbrook? Was it everything that Phil had built it up to be?" he said with a teasing smile.

"To be honest, I can hardly remember all the parties and social events Phil dragged me to because…" she trailed off for a moment, taking a sip of water before continuing, "they all fade in comparison to my return to my birthplace."

He had figured that learning about her past had been one reason she had wanted to visit Bolingbrook so much, but he hadn't wanted to pry, knowing her conflicting feelings on the subject. "Did you learn anything?" His words were gentle, unsure if the experience had been positive or not.

Her response was emphatic. "Oh, Gil, it was like a dream—a sad, sweet, beautiful dream. The house was just like I had always pictured it—small, yet cozy—and the woman who lived there remembered them from twenty years ago!"

Her eyes were glassy as she spoke, and his heart warmed to see her so touched by the experience. Ignoring any feelings that told him to hold back, he reached across the table to take her hand. "Anne, that's amazing. What did you learn?"

She looked down and their joined hands and blushed before continuing. "I mean the old woman told me things that I had always dreamed—that my mother was beautiful and my father was redheaded and homely but madly in love with her and that they were much beloved teachers at the local schools. But, even more precious—she had found and kept a dozen or so letters from them."

Then, much to his chagrin, she withdrew her hand from his, only to replace her hand with a stack of yellowing envelopes. He could feel the shock on his face as he looked from the letters in his hand to her, "Are these the—?"

She nodded with tears in her eyes. "They're extraordinary, Gil. I can't express how much they mean to me. I can't—I just—just read them."

"You want me to read them?" he was utterly surprised.

Her face immediately colored, and she reached for them back. "No, no, I'm sorry. I don't know why you would want to. I shouldn't have asked."

He pulled the letters back toward his chest. "No, it's not that. It's just that I'm honored you would share something like this with me."

She tucked a loose hair behind her ears, looking down at the table. "Well, you're the only one who could really appreciate how much it means to me to understand who they were."

He could find no words to respond to this. He almost felt unworthy of the trust she was placing in him at that moment. Carefully, he opened the first letter and began reading. He could feel her intense gaze as he read her father's words of love. At the line about her mother's fits of fancy, he laughed loudly and looked up at a rather bewildered Anne. "Sorry, but your mother sounds just like you! Letting something burn down while she was in her own little imaginary world is something you have done on multiple occasions."

He laughed as she hit him with mock indignation. "Hey! I've gotten better about that!"

He returned his gaze to the letters and kept reading, occasionally remarking on similarities between her and her parents. He could feel Anne's anxious gaze on him as he read, but he found himself engrossed in the letters. He would never meet them, but he felt a strange kinship to them.

As he finished the last letter, he read her mother's last sentence aloud. "I love her best when she is asleep and better still when she is awake," he paused and set the letter down. "That sounds just like you—they both do."

Anne's eyes were brimming with tears, and she nodded. "I thought so too."

Gilbert gently took her hand in his. "I would have liked to meet them. They were clearly very in love, and they obviously loved you very much. And—" he took a breath, "I know that they would be so proud of how Matthew and Marilla raised you."

At this, Anne choked a little and silent tears began to fall from her eyes. She lowered her head and covered her eyes with her free hand, tightening her grip on Gilbert's. Neither of them spoke for a moment—thankful for the relative privacy their corner table gave them.

When Anne finally pulled her hand away from her face, she gave a little chuckle. She pulled her hands away from Gilbert's and began wiping her eyes. "How do you always know just what to say to me?"

He was slightly taken aback this statement. Yet, he little smile she gave him made his heart beat faster, and he found a bit of confidence. "I suppose I just know you too well."

Her face was strangely conflicted, but she spoke softly and affectionately. "I know you do…I kept thinking when I was there how much I wished that you were with me." She looked away before continuing, "You're the only person I've ever talked with about Matthew and Marilla, and how I had wished they were enough for me—that I would never feel longing for the Shirley's—but…"

"Hey," he reached over to tilt her chin to look at him, "your parents will always be a part of you—their letters prove as much. But, the way I see it, your parents stretched an incomparable canvas, and you and your experiences and Matthew and Marilla and Diana and everything else has helped paint the beautiful yet unfinished painting that is Anne Shirley."

Their eye contact was intense, and he absentmindedly damned the table for preventing him from taking her in his arms right then and there.

"Gil, I—" she began but stopped abruptly when Louie approached their table.

"Okay, Lovebirds, you're welcome to stay for the dance, but we've got to move the tables."

Unable to process anything except for the look on Anne's face before they were interrupted, all he managed to say was, "Dance? What dance?"

Louie laughed. "Oh, yes, you two have never been here during the summer! Well, every Tuesday night we become an informal dance hall for all the locals—mainly some scandalous stuff brought by the sailors and the Irish, but fun nonetheless." He looked between the two of them, "So, what do you say? Wanna dance? If you stay, I'll give you both a drink on the house!"

Gilbert looked to Anne who was already nodding enthusiastically—of course, she would want to dance.

Getting up, Louie brought them to the bar and poured them each a stein of beer. "Cheers!" he cried jovially before leaving them alone.

Gilbert was amused to see Anne sizing up her beer stein. "You don't have to drink that, Shirley."

Taking the glass in her hands, she raised her eyebrow at him. "Neither do you, Mr. Blythe, but I'm quite certain that you will. I think Mrs. Andrews was absolutely right about you. You've become corrupted in the big city."

He scoffed. "If one beer is truly a corrupting force, call me corrupted; but I am still the same good Presbyterian boy I've always been. I swear on Johnathan's life that this is only the my fifth drink I've ever had!"

Anne giggled, "Well, this will only be my third! I suppose I'm more virtuous than you then."

Gilbert grinned before furrowing his brow. "Wait, three? We all know of the infamous raspberry cordial incident, but what else have you been drinking?"

"I'll have you know that Phil's crowd in Bolingbrook is a 'fast-set' group, as you would say. They served wine with nearly every meal, and I'll admit that I indulged _once_ ," she emphasized.

He laughed uproariously at this. "Well, then, I'm proud to share your third drink with you, Shirley. Bottoms up!"

They clinked glasses and took a big swig of their drinks. Anne made a show of taking her drink in the most dignified manner possible while Gilbert wiped the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. They continued joking in between sips of beer until they had finally finished their glasses.

"Hey, look who it is!"

Gilbert looked to see a man with no tie approaching them—or, more specifically, Anne. "The girl who rolls the best cigs in Nova Scotia!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. Of course, this fellow would show up right when he was about to ask Anne to dance. Anne looked pleasantly surprised, much to his disgust, "I can't believe you remember me!"

"A girl with a pretty face, the reddest hair I've ever seen, and a peculiar skill? I'd remember her anywhere. Would'ya care to dance, miss?"

Before she could respond, he grabbed her hand and whisked her off to the dance floor. He made to move toward her, but she made eye-contact with him and smiled while she and the man jumped around the room during a lively two-step. He regretfully found himself smiling back.

As the song died down, he slipped to where she was standing as the room clapped in applause. "Would'ya care for another dance, M—?"

Gilbert cut the man off swiftly, "If you don't mind, I think I'll cut in for the next one," pulling Anne into a dancing position.

The man nodded with a disappointed smile. "Of course. Thank you, Miss." he said to Anne before turning back to Gilbert. "You're a lucky man."

Anne opened her mouth slightly in surprised but closed it when Gilbert spoke. "I certainly am."

He found himself surpassing a smile at her deep blush and thanking God when the song slowed down. The casual dance positions they were in was much more intimate than the stiff postures at the formal Redmond balls. He was certain he had never been this close to her face for such an extended time.

"Well, I should say you're very presumptuous, Mr. Blythe. Dancing informally? And in your shirtsleeves? Mrs. Lynde once said that you should never dance with a man who isn't impeccably dressed."

He looked down at his sleeves which were rolled up to his forearms and smiled back at her mischievously. "Well, then perhaps I should leave you be." He moved to let go of her before she tightened her grasp on him.

"Okay, Gil, I concede. Let's dance."

They were quiet for a moment before Anne broke the silence.

"There's something so freeing about dancing here. Isn't there? It's as if I don't have to think about the steps, I just move how I feel and, then—I don't have to think about anything."

He laughed softly. "I certainly wish that's how life was, but, alas, I find myself rarely able to escape my head for long."

He pulled Anne a hair's breath closer only to feel her shift under his slight touch. "I suppose that's the value in this moment—this dance," she said a little breathlessly. "We don't have to think about yesterday or tomorrow. We can just be here, dancing."

He was sure his heart would beat right out of his chest as she spoke. Neither of them spoke a word as they continued dancing. At one point, he found his temple next to hers as he breathed in the scent of her hair, and he closed his eyes, basking in the feel of a perfect moment. She was happy. She was close to him. There was nothing else he needed.

They continued to move together for several minutes until the song ended. When a livelier one took its place, Anne became a little unsteady on her feet, and he realized that perhaps the drink was affecting her more than she had claimed.

"Anne? Are you alright?"  
She looked at him before she suddenly looked at the door. "What time is it?"

He pulled out his pocket watch. "Ten." Her eyes shot open. "Anne, what is it?"

"Aunt Jimsie will probably be worried sick! I'm so sorry, Gil. Can we leave?"

His heart sunk, but he nodded, "Of course. Let me walk you."

* * *

The night air was humid as they emerged from Louie's, and Gilbert felt a strange shift. During those five hours, he could almost believe she was in love with him too, but now he began to feel the distance again. There was some great obstacle between them that somehow disappeared and reemerged, and all he could do was grasp on to his last few moments with her before she became closed to him again.

He grabbed her hand and interlaced it with his as they walked toward through the streets and allies of Kingsport. They said nothing as they walked, but the feel of her gentle hand in his gave comfort to the silence.

As they made their way through the park adjacent to Patty's Place, he realized that the last time they had been there together had been the night of the ball. The ghosts of her insecurity that night hung in the air, and he felt the urge to do something—anything that would make her feel more beautiful in that moment.

Finding a cluster of violets, he picked three little flowers and tucked them into her hair. "Thank you for bringing the magical Kingsport back to me, Carrots."

She couldn't bring herself to look at him, but her voice was sincere. "Thank you for a lovely night as well, Gil. I think it was just what I needed."

He froze as she moved closer and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek gently. Then without a word she turned on her heel and continued toward Patty's Place.

As they approached the veranda of Patty's Place, he became desperate as he realized their time together was running out. "Would you mind if I came for breakfast tomorrow? I really want to make sure you get to the ship safely, and—"

"Wouldn't you have to miss work?"

"Only a half day, and besides I haven't missed a day so far."

She bashfully tucked a hair behind her ear. "Well, alright then. Come at 7:30, and I'll have Aunt Jimsie make a plate for you."

"Thank you," he said, unsure what else he should do. "See you tomorrow then."

He backed away, watching as she leaned against the veranda with a curious smile. "Goodnight, Gil."

* * *

 _Anne was watching him when he woke. She stroked his cheek with her thumb as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He smiled, seeing her face staring back at him. She leaned into kiss him and sighed as he pulled her naked form into his arms. She giggled as his lips brushed over her face, bestowing her with a dozen little kisses. "Darling, you have no idea how happy you made me last night," his voice radiated pure joy. "I just can't believe I had no idea."_

 _She gave him a mischievous look. "Well, you always know—you knew before Diana and Phil announced theirs—I just wanted to make it a surprise for you."_

 _He gave her a quick kiss and placed his hand on her belly. "It was the best surprise I could ask for—I only wish we could already feel her."_

 _"Her?" Anne raised an amused eyebrow._

 _He rested his head on shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I don't know. I suppose I always imagined our first child as a little girl. She would be like a little version of her mother—red curls, green eyes, freckles. Sweet and scholarly, but a little spitfire in the school yard." He pulled a little strand of her hair. "I fully expect to get a report from her teacher someday that she pummeled some boy who dared to insult her in school."_

 _She laughed blissfully and kissed him on the head. "I only hope she doesn't grow up to marry the miscreant."_

 _He sighed and pulled her closer. "She'll lead our brood and go on to do great things, I'm sure."_

 _"Our brood?" she teased. "How many are you expecting to have?"_

 _"Darling, we discussed this," he said with mock exasperation, "We'll have fifty, and then adopt fifty more."_

 _She chuckled, "Oh, yes, our hundred children, but you do realize that means you have to give birth to at least twenty-five of them."_

 _"Deal," he said, kissing her nose_

 _"What about names?" she said, shifting so that she was fully facing him._

 _"I'm okay with just about anything but Averil." He grinned at her._

 _She swatted at him, "Gilbert Blythe! Don't make me push you out of this bed!"_

 _He laughed and pulled her in for a passionate kiss, "Alright, Love, but let's wait on names for now, and just celebrate. We still have a few months."_

 _She threw her arms around his neck then, and in one swift movement, she was on top of him._

Anne woke up slowly as the light gently peaked through the curtains. She smiled and yawned, rubbing her feet together under the covers. She could not recall feeling so peaceful. When she suddenly became conscious of her surroundings, she lifted her head up with a frown.

Slowly, the memories of the previous night came back into her mind, and she smiled ruefully. It had been so lovely to just be there with him, imagining that they were courting. It wasn't even really different from what they usually did, but she found that just imagining that they were in love made the whole evening feel romantic. It was all worth it to feel close to him and confide in him and to see his smile and to hear his laugh. Even if it was just for a day.

When she thought back to the wonderful dream she had awoken with, she felt her face grow hot. Since when did she imagine Gilbert Blythe _naked_? She had never had such vivid dream of desire before, and it made her heart pound. Most of her dreams recently had been about spending time with Gilbert as they normally did—aside from a couple dreams where they were married. Still, it had been a lovely dream, and to her surprise, she found that she didn't feel immoral about it. After all, she was essentially dreaming about marriage and children—a very appropriate dream for a young, single woman. _But, not appropriate when he will marry someone else._ The thought filled her with shame.

 _God, I'm an idiot_ , she thought. How was spending time with him supposed to make things better?

Last night, simply forgetting her unrequited love made everything seem so real. She almost couldn't be sure whether she imagined some of the romantic things he did. Did the ever-prosaic Gilbert Blythe really compare her to a beautiful painting? Did he really call himself a "lucky man" for having her in his life? It seemed so improbable—so undeserved—yet so real and touching. But, much to her consternation, she would now have to face him in the cold light of morning, unsure how much of last night was just a dream and anxious after having dreamt themselves _on their marriage bed_.

She hurried to get dressed and make herself presentable before 7:30. She sighed as she walked down the steps, trying to tuck an unruly piece of hair back into her knot. She tripped on the last step, falling on to something large and firm. A pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders and helped her find her footing. In front of her, holding her close, was Gilbert with a crooked smile and windswept hair that made her heartbeat quicken.

"Gil! What are you doing here so early?"

He narrowed his eyes, looking amused, and motioned toward the parlor clock. "I'm actually right on time. It's 7:32 to be precise."

"Well, then, it appears I am the one who is late," she spluttered. "Sorry for keeping you waiting. Is Aunt Jimsie ready yet? Why don't we go in and ask her. That's a good idea I—" she said as she began shuffling toward the kitchen.

"Anne." She turned back to him. "Are you alright?"

She flushed. "Yes—sorry. I—I just woke up a little late, and now I'm all—um—-off-kilter."

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a dry smile. "Ah, yes, those classic 'off-kilter' days."

* * *

Aunt Jimsie was a welcome relief at breakfast, making enough small talk with Gilbert that she didn't have to bother thinking of conversation topics. All she could think of was her proximity to him and how he had held her in his arms only minutes before.

"Anne? Did you hear me?"

She looked in bewilderment toward Gilbert realizing that he had been saying something.

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"I was just wondering if you were ready to go," he said with a puzzled look.

"Ah, yes. I'll just grab my bags from upstairs."

As she scurried upstairs to grab her luggage, she heard Aunt Jimsie remark to Gilbert, "That girl lives in a word of her own."

When she came back down, Gilbert was ready in his hat and coat. She gave Aunt Jimsie a quick kiss and promised to write.

Outside on the veranda, Gilbert looked at her questioningly. "Would you like me to take one of your bags?"

For some elusive reason, this simple question put her more at ease than she had felt all morning, and she smiled. "Yes, you may take the lighter one. I'm trying to build up my strength."

He laughed lightly, "Oh yes, I forgot your dream of becoming a professional boxer."

She laughed along gaily. "I think I'm qualified. After all, I've spent the last four years wrestling Davy into taking his baths."

"I wouldn't bet against you, Shirley."

Somehow she managed to once again escape into their easy companionship for the duration of their walk. He told her about an interesting story he had edited and shortened for the paper yesterday regarding the British occupation of Egypt from the Associated Press. He shared all he had learned about a region of the world he knew very little about. Anne was fascinated and, as a matter of fact, happened to know quite a bit about Egypt from her childhood fascination with the Pyramids of Giza which later prompted her to borrow a book from Aunt Jo about the Napoleonic Invasion of Egypt. When she told Gilbert about her childhood obsession, he chuckled. "Leave it to you to expand my horizons about a topic I knew nothing about."

She blushed, "That's just it, Gil. I had never heard the word neurology before this year, and now I feel like a bona fide expert just from helping you study. We have always had different passions but the same thirst for knowledge. That's how our friendship has always worked. I have my shortcomings and make mistakes, and you somehow temper them," she looked away and smirked.

When he didn't say anything, she looked over to see him with a furrowed brow, wishing desperately that he would say something.

Her stomach began to do somersaults as they approach the harbor, and in the distance, she could see the ship from Charlottetown docking.

"Anne—"

"I al—"

Gilbert laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You go first."

She gave him a twisted smile. "I was just saying I already have my ticket, so we can go directly to the ship. Or, I can go by myself if you need to leave."

"I've got time. Come on."

They reluctantly made their ways toward the harbor. When they were standing on the dock, they stopped for a moment, watching people get off the ship in silence. Gilbert's voice was like a knife through the silence. "Anne, I just want to thank you for coming to visit me yesterday. You really don't know how much it means to me, and—" he cleared his throat, "I want to thank you for sharing your parents' letters with me last night. I don't know what I did to deserve the trust you place in me, but please know I don't take it lightly."

He shut his eyes for a moment, as if warring with himself whether he should speak or not. "I know you're not ready to talk about everything you are dealing with right now—and that's okay—but like I said before, I will be here when you need me."

He put her other suitcase down and took her free hand in both of his. "I don't say this to force any confessions or make you uncomfortable. I can just feel that something isn't right, and…I don't know…I'm sorry—I don't know exactly what I mean."

He looked frustrated with himself, and she sighed. She understood why he was confused. She was confused herself. From one day to the next—or even one hour to the next—she wasn't sure if she wanted to be close to him or far away from him—if she wanted him to love her back or if she wanted her own feelings to disappear. He deserved some sort of honesty, but how much? "I'm sorry, Gil. I know I've been giving you some mixed signals, and I don't mean to it's just that I know—" she sighed, looking upwards and blinking to control the pressure behind her eyes. "I know—" she then made the mistake of looking at Gilbert who was staring at her intently with a loose jaw.

"You know what?" he said gently, his head bending toward her slightly.

She swallowed, ready to tell him that she knew all about his relationship with Christine and how it made her fear for the future of their friendship, when the ship's horn blared. She looked up toward the ship, only to see Ronald Stuart approaching.

Gilbert's eyes were still fixed on her when they heard Ronald calling over the crowded platform. "Is that Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley I see?"

Gilbert's intense gaze lingered on her for a moment before he turned toward Ronald. His eyes remained stormy as he plastered on smile. "Hello, Ron. What are you doing here?" Anne could hear the strain in his voice.

"Just got off the boat from Charlottetown. I've been there for the past couple of days on business," he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked to Anne, "How are you, Anne? I didn't know you were coming to Kingsport."

Anne smiled, biting the inside of her cheek. "It was unexpected. The ship to Charlottetown was delayed yesterday, but luckily my boarding house was open."

"Ah, lovely. Say, Blythe, would you like to come to dinner tonight? I'm sure Christine would like to see you."

Gilbert smiled easily. "Of course. I'll be there after work."

Anne felt as if she had been slapped. _You have no right to feel that way_ , she told herself quickly and pressed her lips together tightly to prevent them from trembling. The ship's horn blared once more, signaling passengers to board.

Forcing herself to smile, she turned to Ronald. "Well, it was nice to run into you, Ronald. Please give my regards to your sister." Then, swallowing hard, she turned to Gilbert. "I'll write you soon, Gil."

Without looking him in the eye, she picked up her bags and hastily made her way toward the ship. Behind her, she heard Gilbert tell Ronald to go ahead without him. "Anne!"

She stopped at his call and squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to stay in her eyes. She turned around to face him with as much composure as possible.

He frowned at her in concern. "What were you going to say back there?"

She felt a tear fall onto her cheek and smiled at him painfully. Throwing her arms around his neck, she embraced him and murmured, "Thank you for all you do for me, Gil. I love you."

The last three words came out of her mouth hoarsely, and she stepped away from him and scurried up the platform to the ship's deck, not daring to look at him.

Finding an unoccupied seat in a remote corner of the ship, she took her jacket off, feeling altogether too hot. As she took off her travelling jacket, a slightly crushed violet fell on to her lap. She picked it up, smiling gently. Despite painfully feeling like she and Gilbert would never be the same again, she felt a deep spark of gratitude that he was in her life at all. Taking a book out of her bag, she pressed the violet in pages, feeling distinctly as if she preserved the precious memory of his actions as well.

She considered the Gilbert's actions over the course of their friendship. He may not have loved her as she loved him, but he saw her worth and cared—despite her faults and her coldness toward him. Her parents loved her before she was even born, and Matthew and Marilla loved her even though she brought chaos into her life. These truths were hard to internalize, but no less powerful for it.

Tears fell freely down her face then, and she laughed softly to herself. Gilbert didn't love her as she wanted, and naturally, it hurt. However, in that moment, she felt a strange, comforting happiness in knowing that he and so many others could love her in any way at all.

* * *

Gilbert stood motionless on the dock, watching the ship fade into the distance—his mind reeling. Had she really just said she loved him? Did she mean that she loved him like he loved her? His heart nearly beat out of his chest.

He had gone to sleep last night thinking about his conversation with Johnathan after he had received her last letter. Their night together had completely contradicted his theory that she knew he loved her and didn't return his affection. In fact, the more he thought about it the more ridiculous it seemed.

Johnathan had been more objective about all of this the whole time. As he lied awake in bed, he seriously contemplated for the first time that Johnathan had been right. She loved him and thought he didn't love her back.

Despite what he had told Anne, he had arrived at Patty's Place early. He had spent a half hour fidgeting on the veranda of Patty's place, wondering if he could pick up on anything. She had been flustered when he greeted her—but for understandable reasons. She had seemed distant, almost despondent at breakfast, and then their easy banter had returned on their walk to the harbor. It was only at her tearful goodbye and her near admission of _something_ that he began to see any tangible hint that she loved him. He needed to know what she had been going to say, and if it was an admission of love—God, help him—she would never send it in a letter. Then, she had said it—an almost imperceptible _I love you_ —for his ears only.

It was the sign he had been waiting for. Yes, there was still plenty of room for doubt, but it didn't change that he had more evidence than ever to believe that she loved him as he loved her. The happiness that filled him was almost unbelievable, and completely unbidden, he laughed in the middle of the street with tears in his eyes. He must have looked hysterical, but he could hardly care in that moment. Anne loved him! He wasn't precisely sure how much, but he had more hope than he had had in weeks.

He almost stopped in his tracks on a crowded street as he recalled her distraught face at the harbor and the awkward way she had greeted him. _How could she be so blind?_ Of course, he loved her! It was painfully obvious to everyone from Avonlea to Kingsport! And, it pained him to think she carried such insecurity she could be blind to the way she made him feel.

He decided then and there that he would need to put his heart on the line at the next opportunity. His mind immediately thought about the small velvet pouch in his grandmother's hope chest back at the Blythe farm and nearly bolted to the post office to send a letter to his mother.

* * *

 _Yikes! That was a lot and potentially very confusing, but I hope you guys enjoyed the little oasis in the storm. There's still quite a bit to go, but this chapter is a major turning point. There's been a lot of catalysts for character development here, and I'm looking forward to see what you all think! Please review!_

 _Many of you know that I'm an Arabic-Spanish translator and I'm a bit of a nut for history, so I just *had*_ _to include the little bit about Egypt in there. I'm reading The Harem Years by Huda Sharawi currently which more or less focuses same time period, and I was inspired to add a little bit of Egyptian history in there because I'm a dork!_

 _One interesting thing that came up when I was writing this chapter was the subject of Anne's desire as well as Anne and Gil's drinking habits. It is well-established that they frequently threw propriety to the wind, but I debated on how much this is true by standards because they are also shown as generally upright citizens in their community. I ended up doing a lot of research on what I think Anne and Gilbert could have gotten away with as well as what they would have been willing to do. I read a couple of LMM's diary entries, and like Anne in this chapter, she clearly feels sexual desire. However, she was firmly committed to abstinence while making allowances for what she called "preliminary lovemaking" and unchaperoned dates. I used this thinking as a model for their drinking habits. Temperance was most likely practiced by most in their community and considered moral, but drinking was definitely considered less of a sin than pre-marital sex, especially if it was practiced in moderation. Although neither Gilbert or Anne ever *purposely* drink in the books to my recollection, I think it's believable that Anne and Gilbert would have had a few drinks in their lifetime, especially when they were far from the prying eyes of Avonlea. Either way, I already am taking significant liberties with the story, but I thought you all might want to know my rationale._

 _Anyway... **Up next:** Gil gets shit from his coworkers, Anne comes home to a shock, Anne disagrees with Clara and John, Clara receives a letter, Anne misinterprets more stuff, Gil gets another (worse) surprise..._


	7. Chapter 7

_Hello all! I'm so sorry it took so long for this to get out! As many of you knew, I recently moved to the other side of the world, and it has been-to say the least-stressful but wonderful. Additionally, this chapter is transitional and was extremely difficult to write. I don't think it's a very strong chapter, but it sets everything up for the last two chapters and epilogue (or maybe 3 and the epilogue)!_

 _I also need everyone's input on the next story as I begin to plan! I was originally going to do two follow-up stories-one about their engagement and one about their early marriage. But, as I've written this one, the central conflict in their engagement has kind of fell apart, so it would just be kind of fluffy. So now I have two potential options going forward: writing moments from their engagement as a few one-shots and then focusing on the story about their early marriage-OR-doing a few one-shots as a follow up and working on a new story that's very AU and much more ambitious! I have that one all mapped out and ready to go, but you all are really what keeps me going so I'd love your input!_

* * *

Anne's arrival home resulted in various waves of emotion. Mrs. Lynde was quite predictably scandalized that Anne had spent a night in Kingsport with Gilbert, unexpected and unchaperoned. Dora and Davy were overjoyed to have her home. And, Marilla hugged her girl warmly before retreating to the table where she peeled potatoes, peering curiously at the girl before her. Anne knew immediately that Marilla could tell that something was wrong.

After the initial commotion of Anne's returns had died down, Marilla sent the twins off to get ready for bed, telling them all they should allow Anne to get some rest.

Anne had only just settled into bed when she heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Marilla walked a few steps into the room before gesturing toward the bed. "May I sit?"

Anne smiled warmly, extending her hand. "Of course."

Marilla sat down and took her hand, patting it gently. "I just wanted to make sure that everything was well before I went to bed. You had quite a time of it, trying to get home."

Anne looked down at Marilla's hand, contemplating whether or not to tell Marilla about her parents. When she made eye-contact with Marilla, she realized she could no sooner cut her hair off than keep her discovery from her beloved guardian.

"I went to my birthplace," she blurted quickly.

Marilla merely smiled and nodded once. "I figured as much."

"And I—I discovered several letters from my parents."

Marilla's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

"I read them, and I visited their graves, and it was amazing to feel so close to them, but…I still feel strange about it all."

"How so?"

Anne took a deep breath. "I suppose they don't fully feel like my parents. I read their letters and discovered similarities to them, but the whole time I was there, I couldn't even imagine myself growing up there with them and still being the same person. I couldn't really imagine myself growing up without you and Matthew."

Marilla looked down and cleared her throat of emotion. "Well, that is completely sensible. We are all made by our experiences, however Providence wills our lives."

Anne covered her face in her hands. "I know. It's just—I almost feel guilty when I think about myself as their daughter because I feel like I am not the daughter they would have raised. I was raised by you and Matthew, and I am so proud of what I have accomplished with your support. Then, I feel guilty because I know my parents loved me, and I am grateful that two people other than them raised me. Does that make sense?"

Marilla closed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. "When you went to Queens, Matthew and I were so proud of you. You had so enriched our lives, and we missed you very much.

"Matthew once asked me what might have become of us if you had not come into our lives. I thought of you growing up with your parents—never touching that awful orphanage—and I felt guilty because I was glad you still ended up with us. We were only happy because you had been orphaned and came to us instead."

Anne took her hands off of her face as Marilla spoke and took Anne's hands once again.

"Do you still feel that way?"

"No," she said in her sensible, Marilla manner. "I stopped thinking that way quickly. We had no control over the things that happened, and we did not wish for things to be the way they were. But, we took what Providence gave us and were thankful for it. All is how it should be, and we shouldn't be guilty for being grateful for the good things in our lives."

Anne moved to rest her head on Marilla's shoulder as she continued. "Anne, your parents created you and gave you all they could in their lifetimes, but you became you because of your experiences and the people in your life. And, I don't think I could be prouder of you."

A few tears fell from Anne's eyes as she spoke. "Gil said the same thing yesterday."

"Gilbert is a wise man."

"Yes, he is," Anne said in a broken voice.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Silent tears fell on Marilla's shoulder. Her earlier gratefulness for his presence in her life had left her with her exhaustion, and now she felt a deep loneliness as she imagined her life without his constant care and advice.

Marilla broke the silence. "Anne?"

"Hm?"

"Did you and Gilbert quarrel when you were in Kingsport?" she asked gently.

"What would give you that impression?" Anne asked defensively.

Marilla stroked Anne's hair. "You seemed quite ill-at-ease speaking about him when you had arrived, and you started crying when you spoke of him just now. I had wondered if perhaps you had quarreled."

Anne's words pained her as they came out of her mouth. "No, quite the opposite. He was as wonderful as he's ever been. It's just—he's fallen in love with this woman Christine from Kingsport, and I—"

"Anne, are you in love with Gilbert?"

Anne collapsed into tears as Marilla held her. "Yes—so very much."

"Oh, Anne," Marilla sighed. "For how long?"

"I really can't be sure. Perhaps since we first became close or sometime after, but I only began to notice it when we were about to be separated." Fresh tears welled up in her eyes then. "Oh, Marilla, it's so terrible. I've taken him for granted. He's always so supportive, and he makes me so happy. I never appreciated it until I realized that he might not always be there by my side."

"I won't deny I had always hoped that you two would one day get married. I trust him, and anyone can see how happy you are together. But, you cannot blame yourself for not realizing your love sooner. You are still so young, and even though it's hard for me to imagine any woman who he could get on with better, I don't think you could have done anything to prevent this. Sometimes there are obstacles that our put in our way, and we deal with them the best we can."

Anne sat up and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, exhausted. "I know. I just wish it didn't hurt like this. I have always had these dreams for my future. Sometimes I would become a poet and live in a castle in Spain. Or maybe I would be a novelist and live in a beautiful house with a garden. But, no matter what I dreamed, Gilbert was always there, laughing and arguing and joking with me. Now, I have to imagine a future without him, and I can't. I feel like I've lost all direction, and it's making it hard for me to focus on anything."

"I understand. But, you are not the type to give up. You've had so many challenges in your life, but you are stubborn and strong and so full of love. You will overcome this one like you've overcome everything else. Alright?"

"Yes, Marilla. But, is it okay if I sulk a little bit? I don't think I could get through if I had to contain every sigh and all my tears," she said with a quirk of her mouth.

Marilla smiled gently. "Yes, I suppose I could allow for just a bit of sulking, but after an appropriate time, I fully expect you to be back to your normal self."

Anne squeezed her guardian's hand once. "I love you, Marilla."

"I love you too."

* * *

The next morning, Anne strode to the Blythe homestead with a churning stomach. She knocked on the door and waited, surprised to see that there was no response after several minutes. She heard movement inside and the sound of coughing, and her eyes went wide. She tentatively opened the door to see a frantic Clara buzzing around the kitchen. "Clara?"

"Anne," the woman's eyes opened in horror. "Is it Thursday already?"

Anne nodded. Suddenly, a hacking cough came from upstairs, and Anne looked toward the stairs. "Is that John?"

Clara froze for a moment before nodding. "He's been like this for the past two days. At first I thought it was just a cold, but this morning, there was blood, and it was like his consumption all over—"

At this, the older woman burst into tears, and Anne hugged her tightly. When she pulled away, Anne gave her a determined look. "What can I do?"

Clara was completely deflated. "I don't know. I don't…"

Anne understood Clara's helplessness. She had often felt that way after Matthew's death. It was only Gilbert's concern and support that helped her get through it. _What would Gilbert do?_

She took a breath.

"Has someone gone to fetch the doctor?" she asked directly.

Clara nodded. "Yes. I went to the Fletcher's this morning, and George should be bringing the doctor any time soon."

"Okay," Anne said curtly. "Have you both eaten today?"

"I just gave John some broth—he can't swallow anything solid at the moment."

"And, what about you?" Anne asked gently.

Clara looked almost confused at the question. "I don't quite remember."

"Okay, well, in that case, why don't you continue tending to John upstairs, and I'll make you something to eat and a plaster for him. How does that sound?" Anne said, gently taking Clara's hand.

Clara's eyes brimmed with tears as she sniffed and nodded before retreating back upstairs.

As Anne worked in the kitchen, she considered the situation at hand. John Blythe was sick—potentially, with another bought of consumption—and the gravity of that realization sent a wave of nausea through her body. He was such a good man who deserved to see his son graduate and become a doctor—to have grandchildren. Not to mention what would happen to Clara and Gilbert's future if John were to succumb to this illness. Anne shivered the thought away as she continued to mix the plaster.

Several minutes later she made her way up the stairs with a bowl and some clean cloths. She had never been on the top floor of the Blythe's home before, and it filled her with a strange sort of anxiety as if she was intruding upon their family. Taking a step forward, she tentatively knocked on the door.

Clara opened it, and seeing the weary look on her face, Anne swallowed her discomfort and made her way over to the bedside table. "I've made a plaster which should help him breathe. Apply it to the throat and chest and replace it every couple hours."

The woman across from her nodded as she began to unbutton her husband's shirt. Turning away slightly, Anne cleared her throat, "I will—uh—go downstairs now and get you your lunch."

Clara nodded without looking up, her brown creased in concentration. Anne took her leave and made her way downstairs to make a sandwich.

A while later, she made her way back up the stairs with a sandwich and a tray of steaming towels.

As she walked in, she saw Clara sitting on the bed with her hand in his. Anne tried to silently place the sandwich down on the bedside table and slip away unnoticed, but Clara turned her head to face Anne. "Thank you, dear."

As Anne tried to leave, Clara reached out her hand to grab her wrist. "Please stay. I'm so sorry this is what you expected when you came, but I'm overwhelmed quite frankly—" her voice broke off as her eyes brimmed with tears.

Suddenly, a hacking cough came from John who woke up to see Anne standing in front of him. "Anne?" he looked to his wife in confusion.

"I told you before you went to sleep, Darling. It's Thursday, and Anne is back from Bolingbrook."

John collapsed into another coughing fit, and Anne took a step back. "I'm sorry for intruding. I'll take my leave now."

John held a hand up to stop her. "No, please. You're never intruding in this house. You're practically family."

His words made her insides lurch uncomfortably, but she managed a gentle smile as he continued. "I'm sure it will still be a while before the doctor comes. Why don't you tell us about your trip to Bolingbrook. I would love to hear it."

So, sitting down on the rocking chair on the other side of the room, Anne began to tell the Blythe's about the past two weeks.

When she got to her unexpected layover in Kingsport, she didn't miss the way John and Clara smiled slightly at each other, and she slightly averted her eyes.

"And, Gilbert—how is he?" Clara asked.

"Oh, he's doing well from I can see. He's befriended one of his coworkers, Johnathan, and they seem to get on quite well—even though he's a Grit," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

John laughed at his, breaking off with a short cough.

Anne smiled painfully at the raspy quality of his laugh and looked down at her hands. "I actually promised him not to tell you that, but I figured you both would find it more humorous than anything else."

Suddenly, there as a knock at the door. "That's probably the doctor. Would you like me to leave?"

"If you wouldn't mind staying, I think it might be helpful for you to hear what the doctor says."

If Doctor Richards had been surprised to see Anne open the door, he gave no indication as he matter-of-factly followed her up the stairs to the master bedroom. Anne stood quietly in the corner as the doctor did a routine check up, respectfully averting her eyes when the doctor unbuttoned his shirt to listen to his lungs.

After a painfully long fifteen minutes, the doctor stepped back from the bed and turned to Anne and Clara. "So, the good news is that I don't hear any fluid in the lungs, which is generally the best indication of tuberculosis. However, the blood and the cough are concerning, especially given the season."

He sighed and looked back at John. "If it wasn't for his history with the disease, I would probably assume it to be your average garden-variety lung infection. Unfortunately, there will be no way to know until the symptoms begin to subside in about two weeks or they worsen."

"What can we do?" Clara asked clutching her apron with white knuckles.

"Treat the symptoms the best you can. Plasters and steaming towels like what Miss Shirley prepared are good tools to keep the inflammation down and to make him more comfortable, so he can rest. Keep a close eye on his fever—and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to monitor his symptoms."

After the doctor left, Anne turned to Clara. "The sun is nearly down now. I should get back or Marilla will begin to worry, but I promise to be back tomorrow morning."

"Anne, I can't ask you to do this."

"You didn't ask. I offered," Anne insisted stubbornly. "You and John are my neighbors and have always treated me with such hospitality."

Clara pressed her mouth into a tight seam. "Thank you, Dear. It would be a great help," she said, kissing Anne's cheek.

Anne nodded with a supportive smile and turned to leave. "Wait, Anne!"

She turned to find Clara's imploring gaze, "Please, don't mention this to Gilbert if you write him."

Anne felt her mouth fall open. _Why would she ever try to keep something like this from him?_ After a moment, she found her voice. "He has to know, though."

Clara sighed, "You heard the doctor. It could be much less serious than we thought. John's illness is has already cost Gilbert three years of his education, and we can't bear to see him lose this job or jeopardize his future if it really isn't serious."

"But, it could be serious, and even if it's not tuberculosis, a lung infection is no laughing matter. I know Gilbert, and I know that he would never forgive himself if he wasn't here for—" she cut herself off, unable to say the words she knew Clara feared most.

"Yes, I know, and I promise that we would send a telegram the moment anything got serious, but I can't deal with that right now." She looked at Anne intensely. "Please, Anne, promise me."

"Alright. I promise," she said with a curt nod to Clara and left.

Anne stood on the porch for a moment, unable to move. It would kill Gilbert if he knew that she kept this from him. There was perhaps no person in the world that Gilbert loved or admired more than his father. Still, the thought of betraying Clara's trust felt like a weight in her stomach. She felt like she was in an impossible situation.

To whom was her loyalty stronger? Gilbert or his parents?

The answer was simple. There was no one in the world she was more devoted to than Gilbert. She loved him with every part of her, and she would do whatever would make him happy—regardless of the position it would put her in.

She quickly formulated a plan about how to tell Gilbert. Looking at the sky, she estimated that she had about forty minutes to get to the mercantile, so she took off running.

* * *

Gilbert was just finishing up his corrections on an article when he heard his name over the sound of shuffling papers and printing presses. "Blythe! You've got a phone call!"

Curious as to who would be calling him at 4:55 on a Thursday, he hurried over to the main office and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Gil, is that you?"

He nearly dropped the phone at the sound of Anne's voice. "Yes, yes! Anne?! Why are you calling me here? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," there was a slight silence before she continued, "but your father isn't."

Everything in his body lurched at her words. He had always dreaded this moment. The moment he found out his father was dying—or—

He must have been silent for a few moments, because Anne's concerned voice jolted him back to consciousness. "Gil! Gil! Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here," he said, every word paining him. "What's wrong?"

"He's sick again, and it's his lungs." He bit the inside of his cheek to curb the stinging behind his eyes. Memories of his father coughing up blood and choking on his words flooded his mind. _This has to be a nightmare_ , he thought. _Please, let this be a nightmare._

He swallowed before speaking again. "I'm on my way."

"Wait!" she spoke loudly into the phone.

"What?" Gilbert asked, his voice breaking slightly.

"You can't come."

He felt his grief boil into anger when he spoke next, "Of course I can, and I will! Why—"

"Just listen!" she cried, and he stopped speaking. "The doctor came today and said that he's not convinced that it's tuberculosis at all. In fact, he's not showing all the symptoms of it, but because he has a history of the disease, the doctor thinks there's a possibility at this point.

"He's been coughing severely quite a bit, but he has no fluid in his lungs nor does he have a fever. It could just be a normal lung infection that will go away in a couple weeks."

Gilbert took a deep breath. So, it wasn't a necessarily death sentence. Yet, the fear that it was not simply a routine illness was too disconcerting to stay in Kingsport. "I'm still coming home, Anne. If there's a chance that he's seriously ill—"

"I wasn't finished, Gil!" He heard her sigh through the phone before continuing. "You cannot come because you're not supposed to know your dad is ill. Your mother begged me not to tell you because she doesn't want you to pass up this opportunity if there's nothing truly wrong. But, I has to tell you because…"

Her voice trailed off, and his body tensed at the silence. "Because what?"

"Because as much as I respect and care for your parents, you needed to know no matter what, and I was not going to stand in your way."

For the first time since picking up the phone, he felt overwhelmed with love for the woman on the other end of the phone. She knew him—really knew him—and was willing to put herself in an uncomfortable to be honest with him.

"I know I can't change your mind if you decide to come, but I'm asking you not to because I want to at least respect some of your mother's wishes.

"I will be at your house every day, and I will write you every single day with his symptoms and any updates. There will be a three to four day delay, but I promise that I'll get my letters in as early as possible. And," there was a quick pause, "if I think that you need to come, I will send a telegram immediately. So, would you please consider waiting?"

Everything in him still wanted to drop everything and leave Kingsport as soon as possible, but her next words shattered his resolve. "Could you trust me enough to do this?"

Could he trust Anne with his father's life? There was no one better than her to trust. She was everything his parents could need right now—supportive, intelligent, hardworking, devoted, and caring. He planned to trust her with his heart, his life, his name, his children. Of course, he could trust her.

"Okay," he said quietly, his heart clenching as he acquiesced.

"Thank you, Gil. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"You have no idea how much this means to me. Anne, there's no one else I could trust with my father's health besides you. Thank you."

There was a moment of tense silence before she spoke again. "Yes, well—I must be going. This call has already cost me forty cents."

"Oh, alright. Well, goodbye then."

"Yes—uh—goodbye."

He sat next to the telephone for at least five minutes after she hung up, attempting to process what had just happened. As he stood up to grab his coat and head home, only two thoughts passed through his head. The next few nights would be hell as he waited for more news about his father. And, there was no one in the world for him except for Anne Shirley.

* * *

Anne returned to the Blythe's everyday, and a solemn routine developed among the three of them. Clara would go to the guest room to sleep as Anne fed John breakfast and prepared a plaster for him. By the time Anne finished boiling the laundry, Clara be awake again. She would eat dinner by John's bedside while Anne read to them. After reading for an hour or two, Clara would change John's clothes and bedsheets as needed while Anne ate her dinner downstairs. John would then sleep for most of the afternoon while Anne and Clara did all the chores around the farm.

Doctor Richards came every other day to check on John, most days declaring him no better nor worse than he was the day before.

Regardless of the changes, Anne sent Gilbert a letter every night as soon as she left they Blythe's.

 _Dear Gil,_

 _Today, your father had two severe coughing fits. One, in the morning when he was trying to eat, and the second, just before supper while he was sleeping. We gave him plenty of fluids, and Doctor Richard's says there is no change in his condition._

 _He won't give us false hope, but he says there's still no reason to believe it really is tuberculosis yet._

 _Anne_

 _..._

 _Dear Gil,_

 _He was in high spirits today as we finally finished The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. He laughed profusely when I declared that Tom seemed like a cross between you, me, and Davy as children. He spent a lot of time remising with me about your childhood, and I believe he is hopeful._

 _He has a slight fever, but nothing more than a degree or so above normal. Doctor Richards is not concerned, but he's having difficulty distinguishing the hacking from any potential water in the lungs. If there is, there isn't enough to make a diagnosis._

 _Anne_

 _..._

 _Dear Gil,_

 _Doctor Richards says that we are getting into the territory where the illness will either get better or it will worsen. Your mother and I are praying for the best._

 _He slept more today than he did yesterday, which is a good sign. I do worry about your mother though, who is not sleeping as much as I would like. I suppose we all are anxious these days._

 _Anne_

On the thirteenth day of John's sickness, Anne was sitting reading to John as Clara slept. Suddenly, John squirmed in the bed and began grasping at the covers.

Anne sat up in her chair, "What's wrong?"

"Why is it freezing in here? It's like a bloody ice box!"

Ignoring his curse, Anne rushed over to feel his forehead that was burning up. He began coughing intensely as Anne stood up in horror to pour him some water. He drank some, but his coughing became worse.

"Clara!" Anne yelled, "Clara! Come quickly!"

In a moment, Clara was by her side and smoothing her husband's forehead. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"He just started shivering and now he has a fever. Should I get the doctor?"

Clara nodded without looking away from her husband, and Anne rushed out of the room, the sounds of Clara's loving murmuring still ringing in her ears.

It took Anne half an hour to return with Doctor Richards in the buggy. She stayed in the stairwell listening to the sounds of John's coughs as the doctor examined him, feeling her heart beat through her chest. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she contemplated sending a telegram to Gilbert as soon as possible. A thousand what-if's ran through her mind. _What if he didn't make it in time? What if he blamed her for not coming? What if John died tonight?_

She rubbed her eyes on her sleeved and composed herself. She needed to be strong tonight. No matter what could happen, she would keep her word to Gilbert.

"Anne?" called Clara.

She walked in the room to see John lying very still on the bed, his hand clasped in Clara's; and she moved to take a seat on the other side of the room.

"What do you think, Doctor?" Anne asked quietly.

The doctor removed his hand from John's forehead, looking from John to Clara to Anne. "I believe I can safely say that this is not tuberculosis."

Clara collapsed into relieved sobs at this, while Anne stood motionless in the corner with wide eyes. "Does that mean he'll be alright?" she asked tentatively.

The doctor gave a slight smile, "While today's episode was quite frightening, the spike in his fever lasted less than an hour, and his cough is now productive indicating that we have reached a turning point. Now that the mucous has dislodged from his lungs, I have been able to confirm that there is indeed no water in the lungs.

"That does not mean we're completely out of danger, though. Lung infections are a serious business, and I don't want you to let up on his treatment at all. You two have been doing very well in his treatment, but he'll need the same level of care in order to recover properly. However, I would say he should be able to begin walking within a week."

Anne covered her smile with her hand. "Oh, I can't tell you how glad I am, Clara. Thank you, Doctor Richards," she said shaking his hand aggressively. "I must tell Marilla and Mrs. Lynde. They'll be so pleased!" She began to run out the door before turning on her heel and walking back in. She looked to Clara, "Do you need anything before I go?"

Clara looked to Anne and held out her hand, "No, Dear, but thank you so much. This would not have been possible without you."

"I'm happy to do it," she said, squeezing Clara's hand back. "I'll see you all tomorrow!"

With that, Anne raced down to the post office to send the most joyful telegram she was sure she would ever send.

RECOVERY BEGINNING STOP. ONLY LUNG INFECTION STOP. LETTER SOON STOP.

* * *

The next week flew by as John slowly improved. Clara finally sent a letter to Gilbert apologizing for the delay in her letters, as his father had been "quite ill" the past week, and she hadn't had time to write.

Once John was able to sit up in bed by himself and walk again with help from Clara, Anne began to spend half days with them. The rest of her days were spent with Marilla and the twins, who she would be leaving in a week to go back to school.

While Anne rejoiced in John's recovery, the lighter mood around the Blythe homestead brought more comments about Anne "practically being a daughter" or how Gilbert was getting to the age where he had to "consider his future." Once, she even heard Doctor Richard's telling John and Clara that he had never seen such a devoted daughter-in-law, and that Gilbert "really knew how to choose one."

Despite the sting of these moments, Anne carried on, occasionally running to Marilla and Diana to cry on her lap when it all became too much.

The week before Anne was set to leave for Redmond, John was finally getting back to normal, and Anne sat in the parlor with Clara, attempting to catch up on her correspondence.

"Anne-dear, would you please look through that pile of letters on the table there and let me know if there are any letters from family? I'd like to reply to those first."

Anne shuffled through the letters before coming upon one from Kingsport. "This one is from Gilbert. Would you like to respond to this one?"

"When is it from?"

"It's dated three weeks ago!"

"Oh, goodness! It must have slipped past me. Would you mind reading it?"

Anne opened the letter to see an uncharacteristically short letter.

 _Dear Ma,_

 _Thank you for your last letter. You and Dad's support means everything to me._

 _It must come as no surprise that I am hopelessly in love. I'm sure you and Dad must have noticed that my most recent letters have sounded especially lovelorn. I have no news yet—only hope. Please, send me grandmother's ring when you can._

 _Sorry for this abrupt letter. I promise to write more later this week._

 _Love,_

 _Gilbert_

Anne's blood went cold upon reading Gilbert's letter. She knew it was coming, but seeing it in his hand was so much more painful. He was going to propose to Christine.

"I'm sorry. I believe this one is personal." She cast her eyes down and held the letter toward Clara.

Clara grabbed the letter with a look of alarm as her eyes quickly scanned over the page. Her face turned bright red. "I'm so sorry, Anne. I'm sure this was meant to be a surprise, and Gilbert will be furious when he finds out you knew before he asked you," she spluttered before smiling. "But, you must know John and I have wished for this for the past four years. We could not have wished for a better daughter-in-law if we tried. You have no idea how much your presence these past couple weeks has meant to us. You are so wel—"

"Clara," Anne cut her off. Her eyes brimming with tears. "Gilbert is not proposing to me."

Clara's eyes widened, and she smiled in disbelief. "Anne, of course, he would be proposing to you. Who else is there?"

"Christine," Anne said softly.

Any remaining trace of happiness left Clara's face then. "Christine?" she asked, as if Anne had just started speaking another language.

"The girl Gilbert is in love with in Kingsport—the one he's proposing to. He's been spending a lot of time with her and her family this summer, and clearly, some understanding has been reached."

Clara clearly did not know what to say to this, and Anne's heart clenched, having doused the woman's expectations.

"I—I'm sorry. I am quite shocked. I had always thought…" Clara trailed off, pausing to look at the woman in front of her.

"I know," Anne said with a rueful smile. "Everyone did."

"I'm so sorry, dear. I feel like such a fool, placing our family burdens on you when you're not going to be our daughter-in-law," she said softly, not looking at Anne.

Her words stung slightly, and a tear fell from Anne's eyes and on to her lap. "I'm sorry to have disappointed you," she said solemnly. "But, I was glad to support you both through this time—for Gilbert's sake and yours."

"Oh, Anne, you have not disappointed us in the least," she said, moving to sit next to Anne and place a hand over hers. "I had just always assumed that there was something romantic in your and Gilbert's relationship, and I had already imagined you as one of the family. I'm just having difficult adjusting to—"

"Hey! Look who's up and walking! I made it all the way down the stairs without stopping," the last word fell flat as he paused in the doorway, seeing the two teary women on the sofa. "What's wrong? Did something happen at Green Gables?"

Anne shook her head, but Clara spoke. "Gilbert is planning to propose to a girl in Kingsport. Anne just told me."

John's face fell further. "When? Who is she?"

Anne smoothed her skirts and spoke softly. "He sent a letter that arrived last week, asking you to send his grandmother's ring to Kingsport, so he's most likely planning to do it soon. And, her name is Christine Stuart—she's an heiress in Nova Scotia."

John's brow furrowed. "Is this some kind of joke? I can't believe Gil would go off and marry some heiress from off the island without telling us."

"I really don't know much about it, but they met back in May at a Redmond ball," Anne said quietly. "She's very beautiful and accomplished."

Clara and John both frowned at that, and Anne wondered if she should leave.

"Do you know her, Anne?" John asked carefully.

"I've only met her once, but I know her brother quite well through Gil. She seemed…nice."

Clara looked like she desperately wanted to ask something, but the deafening silence in the room persisted. Instead, she took Anne's hands and looked her in the eyes. "Please, know you are still always welcome here, Dear."

Anne swallowed the emotion that was welling up and looked toward the window, standing abruptly. "Thank you, Clara. I better be going now, but I'll stop by tomorrow to help feed the animals."

She did not dare turn back to the Blythe's as she made her way to the door, swiftly closing it behind herself.

When she had returned to Green Gables, she penned a quick letter to Gilbert as she had done everyday for the past three weeks.

 _Dear Gilbert,_

 _Your father was able to walk around the house without stopping today. He has gained back most of his weight, and I feel comfortable leaving them at the end of the week to return to Redmond in full confidence of his recovery. Please give my regards to the Johnathan and the Stuarts._

 _Anne_

* * *

 _Well, there is is! We are perfectly settled in for the end! Please, let me know what you think! Those of you who sent me PMs and wrote reviews are the only reason I was able to get through this difficult chapter! I love you all, and please let me know your input on what I should do next in my writing!_

 _Up next: Anne returns to Kingsport, everyone confuses Gil, beginning of term ball, and Anne gets a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!_


	8. Chapter 8

_I AM NOT DEAD! Wow, has it been a crazy three months! Thank you to all of you who reviewed and sent me messages throughout this time. I could not have found the motivation to continue without your support..._

 _Unfortunately for me, I spend nearly all of April in the hospital/in bed with dysentery (full-on Oregon Trail style). I lost 10 kg of weight in 12 days and gained it all back throughout my recovery time-it is crazy what a little bad water can do to you! That coupled with working in some very dangerous places, I have been completely exhausted. Luckily/sadly, my work assignment in the Middle East is over, and I'm back home in the U.S. once again where I had the opportunity to crank out this evil chapter._

 _That being said, I hope you enjoy and please review! We only have two chapters left!_

* * *

Anne gazed out the window at the passing landscape, unsure if she wanted to reach her final destination sooner or drag out the journey as long as possible. Her last three days in Avonlea had been particularly exhausting, as she had continued to visit the Blythes, who were not quite sure how to make requests of her now that she was not "practically family." Still, they had come to see her off at the train station that morning to once more convey the depth of their gratitude.

It was clear that Marilla had picked up on the tension between Anne and the Blythes, but as always, she kept her distance. (Anne was certain, however, that Marilla would hint at the incident in the next letter she sent). In that moment, she almost cursed her relationship with Gilbert's parents. She must have known how it would look that she spent so much time with his family, but perhaps she had always wanted to intertwine her life with his on some level.

Still, she could not regret her relationship with the Blythes. She enjoyed their friendliness and easy manner, and as much as it broke her heart, she knew that she would still do anything to make Gilbert happy.

"Anne?"

She sat up suddenly to see Moody, with a somewhat concerned smile. "The porter just called for Brackley, so we should be in Charlottetown in 15 minutes. Did you store anything in the luggage car?"

She smiled appreciatively at him and shook her head, "No. Thank you, Moody."

She shifted her eyes to the wrinkled envelope in her hand. She had read it upwards of twenty times since she had received it five days ago.

 _Dearest Anne,_

 _I don't think I have ever been as relived as I was to receive your telegram. My heart still hasn't returned to its normal speed in the last half hour! I apologize for not writing as much as you have, but in all honesty, I have had difficulty expressing anything in the state I was in. However, now that the burden is released from my shoulders, I feel I can finally convey my deepest appreciation for all you have done for my family—and even greater for me._

 _I know how bad of a liar you are—don't deny it, Shirley—and I know how uncomfortable it made you to betray my mother's confidence like that, but I think I would have been even more horrified if I had received the call to come home without any preparation. I value the truth and honesty above all, and I can't tell you how fortunate I am to have a friend who values my trust as much as you do. I don't know how I have even survived this summer without your support and council._

 _Know I am anxiously counting down the next ten days before I will see you again, and when I do, I'm expecting a five mile walk at the least to catch up on everything that has happened with you!_

 _Yours,_

 _Gil_

She sighed and folded the letter into its envelope again. She would see him in the next twenty-four hours, and she had to deal with the fact that Christine might be draped on his arm when she did. The same Christine who made her feel like small and plain and undesirable.

Diana had told her that she really needed to learn how to be comfortable with the many amazing qualities she did have instead of feeling insecure in the face of Christine's qualities. "Anne, I spent our entire childhood watching you exceed everyone in school and become the first woman from Avonlea to go to college, and frankly, it occasionally made me feel rather boring in comparison. But, I doubt that you or Fred or anyone else would choose to spend their time with me if I didn't have anything good in me!"

Diana was—as always—right. She sighed once more—a habit she must have developed in the midst of all of her lovesickness. She may not be ready to see Gilbert begin a life with another woman, but at least, she felt secure enough to greet Christine with a smile and her head held high.

* * *

"I don't think I've ever seen you this jumpy before. Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Johnathan took two quick steps to keep up with Gilbert's anxious stride.

"I just don't want to miss the boat's arrival—then the whole surprise is bust!" Gilbert shot back.

"Didn't you say that she said 'I love you' the last time she was here? I just don't know why you're so antsy."

"Well, you didn't have to come with me!" he said, annoyance creeping into his voice.

"Alright, alright!" He put his hands up, "You don't have to get so snippy with me! I just thought I'd lend some moral support."

Gilbert sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just everything with Anne is so up in the air right now. I'm so lovesick that I can hardly sleep without seeing her in my dreams, and now we're going to be back together, and so much has changed over the summer, and…" he paused and looked out at the approaching ship, "I don't know."

Johnathan put his hand on Gilbert's shoulder, "Hey, I get it. Uncertainty is hell, but I really don't think you have anything to be worried about."

"Yeah," Gilbert said with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Well, I'll see you later."

Johnathan turned to the right, walking backward. "Yes! And, when I do, I expect to hear all the details of your long-awaited reunion!"

Gilbert laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, continuing on his way to the dock. He waited only twenty minutes before the boat was securely in port, and passengers began disembarking.

He saw Charlie first, followed by Moody before he finally saw Anne. She was wearing her hat with the burgundy bow and the ivy leaves with a billowy white blouse, a dark green skirt, and a navy blue travelling jacket. Two strands of hair fell from her bun, framing her face, and her jacket was unbuttoned. Like always, she was simple yet stylish, and ever-so-naturally disheveled. He smiled in anticipation.

She had been gazing up at the seagulls circling the port just before she saw him. The moment their eyes met, she paused on the gangplank for a moment, nearly tripping.

"Gilbert," she breathed, her face betraying nothing except shock.

Suddenly, feeling uncomfortable, he laughed nervously. "Surprise!"

She blinked a few times quickly before walking the final few steps to meet him and flashed him a quick smile. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting to see you here," she said, leaning in to give him a half-hearted hug.

He didn't know how to respond to this. Was a she unhappy to see him?

"Uh, how's Dad?"

"Oh, he's good. He saw me off at the train station, and the doctor says he should be good to go back to work in a couple days."

"Oh, that's great," he said, trying to meet eyes that were avoiding him.

"Where's Christine?" she said after a moment.

Gilbert's eyebrows knitted together. "I don't know. Were you expecting her?"

Anne smiled softly and shook her head. "Never mind. Would you mind helping me with my bags?"

He graciously accepted the bag she handed him, and they began to make their way to the taxis.

On the taxi, she merely spoke of his parents, her family, and the going-ons of Avonlea—avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.

"So, what are you taking this term?" he asked, hoping to get her to talk about herself.

"Um…Contemporary English Literature, Eastern Poetry, British History, and Elementary Anatomy."

"Just don't tell Mrs. Lynde about your anatomy class," he muttered, making her burst out laughing.

He smiled at her outburst, seeing the light return to her eyes for a moment. "And, luckily," he continued, "we have British History together, so I'll be seeing you every Tuesday and Wednesday."

She nodded, deflating somewhat at this revelation.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped, and Anne hopped out of the buggy with her bags. Gilbert scurried quickly after her, paying the driver, and walking with her up to the door of Patty's Place.

"So, Anne, as you know the beginning of year ball on is Friday evening," he began but paused, seeing the sudden discomfort come over her face.

Suddenly, Aunt Jimsie opened the door. "Oh, Anne and Gilbert!"

"It's so lovely to see you again, Aunt Jimsie," Anne said softly as she kissed Jimsie's cheek.

"Well, come in—both of you!"

They both walked into the parlor, and he stood awkwardly near the fireplace, as Anne set her bags down and embraced Jimsie. He made his way forward by the two women, looking for an opportunity to speak to Anne.

"Anne—" he began, but Jimsie interrupted him.

"Anne, my dear, I have the most marvelous news! I received a parcel from _The Daily News_ a few days ago addressed to you. I didn't realize that it was for you, though, so I opened it and found a letter from the editor. He would like to meet with you this Friday at 5 o' clock in order to discuss another writing opportunity!"

Anne's eyes widened in shock, and she squealed suddenly hugging first Jimsie and then Gilbert. Gilbert was surprised for just a moment before he embraced her as well. When she pulled away, she was sporting a deep red blush.

"Uh…where's the letter? I would love to see it," she said, once more refusing to look Gilbert in the eye.

"Just a moment—I think I put it in my desk," Aunt Jimsie said, before scurrying out of the room.

The silence was unbearable. "So, I guess this means that you won't be coming to the ball on Friday?" Gilbert said, looking for any way to break the tension.

Anne looked at him with alarm for a moment before her features contorted into a polite smile. "I suppose not, but there will always be other balls."

When Aunt Jimsie returned to the room, Anne turned her full attention to the parcel in front of her. Gilbert, utterly confused by her behavior, muttered a quick, "Well, I'll let you two get settled," before walking straight out the front door.

As he began to walk back toward his boarding house, he began to reply every moment of his interaction with Anne from the moment they saw each other at the port. Had she been angry at him for surprising her? Anne loved surprises, so why would she be so angry to see him? And, why was she so cold toward him? She didn't even say goodbye to him just then.

He hadn't felt so discouraged about his relationship with Anne in years. Even early in the summer when she had suddenly become colder, she had never been as uncomfortable as she was with him now, and it felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had to sharpen his resolve. He loved Anne too much to let this carry on. He had had enough of being wishy-washy with his feelings. He deserved to know what was wrong, and he was going to confront her the next time he saw her, if it killed him!

"Gilly!"

Gilbert looked up to see Christine Stuart waving toward him in the distance. He sighed. Christine was nice enough, but he found her excess grating and consistently got the impression that she would prefer his company more if he came from wealth. Not to mention, he hated that nickname.

"Christine, how are you?" he asked, putting on his best polite smile.

"I'm just fine, but I have quite a conundrum, and I do think you might be able to help me with it."

"Oh?" Gilbert said, trying not to let his mind drift off too much.

"You see, I'm just dying to go to my first Redmond Ball without my brother, but I don't have an escort that I can trust. Would you perhaps be able to take me?"

Gilbert found that he missed half of what she said. "What?"

"Honestly, Gilly, you can be so thick sometimes!" Christine said with a little laugh. "I was wondering if you could escort me to the ball on Friday."

Gilbert's spirits sank as he realized that this would be his first Redmond ball without Anne, and he sighed. "Yes, I suppose I am available." He paused, unsure what to do next—he had never gone to a ball with anyone except Anne. "Um, why don't I pick you up at a quarter to 6?"

"Alright," she said, placing her hand on his forearm and looking up at him with expectant violet eyes.

"Yes, well, I better be off then. I have to be going home."

He realized later as he was going to sleep that he had probably been quite rude to Christine, but he found he was having difficulty thinking about anything that wasn't Anne. His dreams only served to confirm that fact, as he drifted off to imaginings of more sweet I love you's dropping from her lips.

* * *

Anne had been dreading her British literature course all day as she contemplated dealing with Gilbert. The last time she saw him, she had been so unprepared to see him. She couldn't tell whether she was thankful or angry that he hadn't told her about Christine in that interaction.

She entered the classroom cautiously, feeling some relief that Gilbert was not there.

As the minutes ticked down before the beginning of class, she began to wonder if Gilbert had changed his course schedule.

However, just as the professor began to speak, she saw—out of the corner of her eye—a tall, brown-haired man slip into the seat next to her. She quickly looked to her left to see Gilbert's smoldering eyes on her. She returned her eyes to the front of the room almost immediately but was hyperaware of Gilbert scribbling something on a piece of paper next to her.

She sat for a few moments as he just scribbled, entirely focused on the sound of his pen scratching against the paper on his desk, her eyes remained fixed on the professor.

She suddenly saw that damned piece of paper enter her vision and chanced a glance at what he was writing.

 _Anne, please tell me what's going on between us. Something wasn't right back in May, and something isn't right now. It's driving me crazy, and I won't make you tell me, but still, you should know that coldness towards me hurts me more than anything. I think I deserve at least some sort of explanation, and I hope you agree._

Anne stared at the paper in front of her for a full three minutes before looking at Gilbert who was staring straight ahead. Was he really that hurt by her behavior?

It killed her to think that she was causing him pain. Tentatively, she grabbed the pen on his desk and began to write a response.

 _Gil, there is no excuse for my behavior, I know. You know I've always been a fickle person, and I've always regretted the way you have always had to pay the price for my own personal issues. I have frankly been having some issues with how I see myself, and sometimes it affects the way I interact with others._

She pushed the slip of paper and the pen back to him before quickly folding her trembling hands on her lap.

Gilbert's response only took a moment.

 _Never apologize to me for how the world has made you see yourself. I still wish you would share these things with me because I will do everything in my power to show you that they are not true. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Please, know that._

She felt tears well behind her eyes. He was so open and kind with her. Of course, she couldn't tell him and make him feel guilty for loving Christine. She would learn to deal with it on her own and remain his friend. Maybe one day she would make peace with it and laugh about it with him.

 _I'm sorry. I will tell you soon, but I have some things I need to sort through in my own head first. Tea after class?_

He didn't pick up the pen again, but she felt a hand gripping hers beneath their chairs under the table. She turned her head toward him and found him staring at her, with all the love and support anyone could ask in his eyes. She squeezed his hand back and gave him and imperceptible nod back.

She could do this. She could hide her emotions and spare him the turmoil of an unwanted declaration of love.

* * *

Gilbert felt immensely better after having tea with Anne. Once they were out of class, she renewed her written apology profusely in the most colorful language possible. He could still feel something was not right; however, the natural warmth and affection between them returned. With time and more conversations about whatever issue she was dealing with, he was sure that he could tell her he loved her.

He opened the door to his boarding house with new-found vigor when he heard his landlady, Mrs. O'Malley, call to him. "Gilbert, I have a package for you, here, from Avonlea."

He practically skipped over to Mrs. O'Malley, sending her a charming smile as he plucked it out of her hand. He ran upstairs and had only just closed the door before he ripped the parcel open to find a small, pearl ring. He could already see himself putting the ring on her finger, seeing that ring whenever he saw her, and reminding himself that she loved him as much as he loved her.

In his excitement about the ring, he nearly disregarded the accompanying letter, picking it up as an afterthought.

 _Gilbert,_

 _We sent the ring as you requested, but I wish you had given us more warning before you sprung it on us that you were proposing to that Kingsport girl! It could have saved us a lot of embarrassment. How could you place so much on Anne—looking after us, spending time with us—if you weren't planning to make her part of our family?_

 _We love Anne dearly, and as much as it disappoints us, we are willing to meet your Christine and bring her into our family._

 _Your loving mother_

Gilbert was dumbstruck. How on earth could his mother think that he was proposing to anyone except Anne? And, how did they know about Christine?

Then, it hit him. Charlie and his damn Sloanishness! Of course it was him! What had probably been a careless comment that his good old chum had made during one of Mrs. Sloane's sewing circles had made it back to his mother of all people!

He jotted a quick note to his mother with the simple message that he couldn't be less interested in Christine Stuart and that he was—of course—referring to Anne!

 _Dear Mother,_

 _I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. You of all people should know that I have only ever been in love with Anne—you've certainly teased me enough for it over the years._

 _No doubt this was just another rumor cooked up by the Sloane clan, but next time I would prefer that you think of the son you raised before paying any heed to idle gossip._

 _Your devoted son,_

 _Gilbert_

* * *

On Friday evening, as the girls were primping in anticipation of the dance that evening, Anne sat on Phil's bed in a smart, navy suit with a leather portfolio on her lap, containing a collection of her writing samples.

"As happy as I am for you, Anne, I'm not one bit pleased that you won't be with us tonight," Stella complained, "It just won't be the same."

"Not to mention that you and Gilbert won't be going to a social event together. It's absolutely unheard of!" Pris teased.

"Well, there was a time when I would have preferred to die before be seen with Gilbert at a social event." There was a faint wistfulness in her voice as she thought about what a happy, stubborn fool that girl had been.

"Yes, of course, but I will probably just end up calling Chrissy-or-Christina-or-whatever her name is Anne repeatedly; undoubtedly making a fool of both Gilbert and myself in the process," Pris said with a little chuckle.

Anne forced a smile but failed to make it convincing as Phil made eye contact with her in the vanity mirror and gave her a sympathetic look. "But, all of this is to say that we all—including Gilbert—would still prefer you to be there, Darling."

Anne started at this comment and stood up abruptly. "Yes, well, I should get going so I'm not late. Have a good time, girls!"

No, it would not do to have them know about Christine and Gilbert from her. They would all probably hear about it tonight anyway, and far be it from her to deny anyone their happiness.

No, tonight was about her and her writing. She had come so far, and she needed to focus on the new opportunity at hand.

As she walked to the Daily News office, she couldn't help but contemplate what it would be like when Gilbert and Christine told the girls about their courtship. She wasn't sure if he had proposed yet—maybe he was saving it for a special occasion such as tonight. Maybe he wouldn't tell them all tonight. Maybe he wanted to tell her first. Sweet mercy, if he didn't tell her soon, she might just wring his neck!

She pushed thoughts of Gilbert and Christine out of her head as she reached the doors to the brick building where she braced herself for the meeting ahead.

Mr. Collins, the editor at _T_ _he Daily News_ , was a short, portly man with a dark grey mustache which was perfectly matched by two dark bushy eyebrows. He spoke quickly and cut through niceties, but he was clearly passionate about his work. And, Anne found she liked his disposition and the twinkle in his eye that appeared whenever he spoke about her writing.

"I must say, Miss Shirley. I don't think we have ever had a response to a story like we had to yours. It was controversial in the best way possible, and we have never had so many women specifically writing into the paper."

"Well, that fact is a compliment in itself!"

"Yes, it is quite a feat when a young woman of some twenty years can write a piece that stirs more discourse than the musings of dozens of middle aged men. But, it's more than that, Miss Shirley, because in the response to your piece, I realized that I have overlooked certain things that have held this paper back."

Anne was taken aback, unsure of how her piece could have exposed any such error. "How so, sir?"

In the fifteen years I have been at this paper, we have only published pieces by women three times. Otherwise, if we want to appeal to women, we'll often just reprint advice columns from sewing magazines and housekeeping books. We rarely get letters from women, and most of them show a substantial lack of engagement.

"But your piece—your piece—was different," he said, wagging a finger in her face. "You wrote an article about issues that women deal with on a daily basis with grace, intelligence, and a bit of wit. That's why I have a proposition for you."

Anne nodded, trying to subdue her excitement.

"I wanted to know if you would be willing to write a women's column for _The Daily News_."

Anne's jaw dropped. Her, a columnist for one of Nova Scotia's major newspapers? She could pursue work as a writer with guaranteed, regular publishing and income! It was almost too good to be true.

"Of course, we understand you are a student now, so until you graduate, I would only expect one column a month at fifteen dollars an article. We'll see how that goes, but if this takes off, we can talk about a weekly column and syndication to other Maritime papers.

"So what do you say, Miss Shirley?"

Anne was silent for a moment before speaking louder than she intended, "Yes! Absolutely!"

Mr. Collins laughed heartily and stuck out his large hand, shaking Anne's vigorously. "Wonderful! Today was only a preliminary meeting to see if you were interested at all—and I'm so pleased you are—but let's set up a meeting for next week to write up a contract and talk about the details."

"Yes, of course, sir! Thank you very much, sir!" Anne said, excitedly.

After setting up a meeting for the following week with Mr. Collins' secretary, Anne scampered home in a daze. In less than an hour, her life had completely changed. She could seriously pursue writing! She had what it took!

She quickly readied herself for the ball, deciding she had to go after all—if for no other reason than to tell the girls about her meeting.

Wearing the same dark green gown she had worn to the last ball, she quickly pulled her hair into a soft French twist, leaving only a few curls to hang from either side of her head. Satisfied with her appearance, she bolted out of the house and practically skipped the rest of the way to the Redmond Ballroom.

* * *

Gilbert was in a foul mood as he and Christine turned around the ballroom. He honestly couldn't discern whether Christine was actually this grating or whether he was simply frustrated with her because she wasn't Anne. Either way, he found himself unable to listen to Christine without feeling his anger rise.

"Gilly, you really must relax. Your shoulders are positively tense."

"I think I have perhaps had too much dancing," he said in a bored voice.

"You've hardly danced twice so far!"

Gilbert had nothing to say to this, so he decided to focus on the decorations strung about the ballroom when he caught a glimpse of red hair. To his surprise, Anne was making her way down the grand staircase in the beautiful green dress he loved. Unbeknownst to him, he stopped moving as he watched her descend the steps.

"Gilly—" Christine stopped speaking when she saw what Gilbert was staring at with an eye roll.

Gilbert watched with a slight smirk as Anne stumbled on one of the steps, only to be helped by a passing gentleman. Suddenly, Gilbert's stomach lurched as the man gave her a little bow, kissing her hand; Anne sporting a becoming blush. The man was tall with honey-colored hair that has slicked back pristinely and an air about him that screamed wealth.

Gilbert's attention was pulled from the scene across the ballroom when Christine laughed suddenly. He looked at the woman beside him sharply, "What?"

"Oh, I just didn't realize Roy Gardner was here," Christine said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Who?"

"That man with Anne over there. His father was a shipping magnet, and now Roy is the youngest millionaire east of Montreal."

Gilbert tensed as Roy took Anne's hand and began leading him onto the dance floor and reluctantly began moving with Christine again.

She giggled again as she looked over Gilbert's shoulder. "It seems that Anne has made quite an impression. Roy seems absolutely smitten!"

"Excuse me," he said, abruptly dropping her hand and walking toward the garden terrace.

Outside he took a deep breath, what was he doing? Why was he so alarmed that Anne was dancing with another man? Because she never blushes like that and because she has been acting strange around you!

Still, Gilbert reasoned, she had spent the last few months taking care of his family, writing him diligently, and sharing her most intimate secrets with him. How could he doubt their bond? He was planning to propose to her!

Another wave of anxiety overtook him, as he imagined her saying no.

Upon hearing a new song begin, he became determined to talk to her—if only to find reassurance in their easy friendship. He walked into the ballroom and scanned the crowd to find Anne dancing with Johnathan.

Determined, he walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Sorry to cut in, Greene. Anne, would you allow me the rest of this dance?"

Understanding the situation, Johnathan stepped back wordlessly, and Anne bashfully took Gilbert's open hand.

"That was rather rude, Gil," she teased.

"Apologies to Jonathan and yourself, but I have missed you so terribly during this dance."

Pleased to see her blush, he pulled her in slightly closer. "So, how was your meeting with Mr. Collins?"

She laughed joyously as he spun her once. "I'm going to be a columnist for _The Daily News_!"

"What?!" he exclaimed. "That's incredible!"

"Yes, I know," she said excitedly. "I don't really have any details yet, but I have a meeting with the editorial staff next week."

He beamed at her, feeling intense pride. "I wish I could say I'm surprised, but I've always known that you would some day outshine us all with your talent."

"Spoken by the future world-renowned doctor!" she grinned.

"I won't disagree with that. I'm quite certain that will be our future," he said cockily.

 _Our future._ A sudden silence fell over them like a curtain at his words, and Gilbert found he couldn't speak. Instinctually, he pulled Anne even closer so that his face was only a couple inches away from hers.

Anne seemed to be similarly mute, and her green eyes were locked with his as they continued to turn around the ballroom.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked suddenly.

Her question caught him off guard, but he didn't look away from her eyes. "That night back in July at Louie's, and you wore that blue dress. And, you had drunk too much, and you kept hiccuping."

"And, I told you about my parents."

"And, we danced," he breathed.

"And, you gave me violets," she said, matching his volume.

"And, I gave you violets," he echoed, cupping her jaw where a small flower has been tucked behind her ear.

His heart pounded in his chest as Anne leaned into his hand slightly before pulling away at the sound of Christine's voice behind.

"Gilly, would you mind taking a turn with me about the room? I am feeling quite light-headed."

After a seemingly endless moment, he sighed, looking away from Anne and tucked Christine's arm into his. He turned back to see Anne again, but she was walking away with her back turned to him.

Before he realized it, Christine had steered him out to the garden terrace of the ballroom and grasped his hand. "Gilbert, I've been thinking."

He looked down at their suddenly intertwined hands and tried to distance himself from her, seeing where this was going. "Christine—"

She put a finger to his mouth. "Please, let me speak because you see, Gilbert, I think that we have a connection, you and I. Hugh is nice, but I don't feel the same with him as I do with you. You may not have his money, but Father has been so impressed by you. I'm sure he would be willing to help out when we're married. All I have to do is break it off with Hugh and then we're free to do as we please."

Gilbert was in absolute shock. Sure, Christine was a flirt, but she had never made any indication that she would be unfaithful like this.

He pulled himself out of her grip and took three steps back. "I'm sorry if you were confused by my intentions, but I had hoped Ronald would have told you. I'm in love with Anne, and I'm planning to marry her."

Christine rolled her eyes, "Anne!" she cried in disgust. "Yes, I know you've fancied her, but I've watched her—she has absolutely no class to speak of whatsoever! She won't do for you, and she's much better off with Roy Gardner in there than you."

He felt his temper flare and had to control the vitriol in his tone. "Class! How can you speak of class when you're trying to convince me to marry you when you're already promised to another? When you insult me for my background and Anne for hers?

"I'll tell you that Anne Shirley is the most intelligent and beautiful woman I have ever met. She has been nothing but kind and supportive to me since we've become friends, and there is no one I would rather spend my life with than her!"

At Christine's outraged expression, Gilbert calmed himself. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position, Miss Stuart; but I think it would be better if we left separately and distance ourselves from this acquaintanceship."

Whatever she said in response, Gilbert did not hear as he walked briskly back into the ballroom. He needed to find Anne. He needed her company and comfort. He needed someone who understood his background and values.

Spotting a short, brown-haired woman in the crowd; he called. "Stella! Have you seen Anne?"

Stella frowned, "Aw, you just missed her. She just left with that Roy fellow."

Gilbert felt like he had just been punched in the gut. "Thanks," he murmured before walking out into the cool September air and down the street.

* * *

Anne was in a profoundly bad mood on her cab ride home with Royal Gardner. He was nice enough, but she was frankly annoyed he insisted on taking a carriage with her home instead of letting her walk alone. "I wouldn't feel a proper gentleman if I let you do that," he had said.

"Miss Shirley, I was wondering if there was a time this week during which I could call upon you."

Anne was taken aback by the implication. "Mr. Gardner—"

"Roy, please," he interrupted.

Anne smirked and continued, "Roy, we've hardly introduced ourselves. Don't you think a social call is a little premature?"

He reached out to take one of her hands in his, "Miss Shirley—Anne—I hope I'm not speaking out of turn when I tell you that I feel as if I've know you already. You are so graceful and elegant, refined with an effortlessness that I know must have been cultivated from birth."

Anne looked into his melancholy eyes and saw some of the most misplaced sincerity she had ever seen. Gently removing her hand from his, she spoke softly. "I sincerely apologize for giving that impression, but I am a simple farm girl from Prince Edward Island. I don't aspire to be refined and graceful, but I appreciate your compliments nonetheless.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, this is my street. Goodnight, Mr. Gardner."

Anne got out of the carriage and walked the rest of the way home. She couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or cry. While the man she was in love with was probably off romancing another woman, she had just refused a man who could have stepped straight out of a Bronte novel! At the least, she could claim her life wasn't without irony!

Once safely inside her room, she sank to the floor in front of her vanity and roughly snatched the pins out of her stripped down to her chemise. Without bothering to put on a nightgown, she got into bed without a stared up at the ceiling of her little blue room for a moment before tears began to stream from her eyes. She turned over and stuffed her face in her pillow, racked with silent sobs. Before long, she managed to fall asleep.

* * *

 _So, there you go! I'm sorry the quality couldn't be better after such a wait, but I think next chapter will make up for it. I've had several of next chapter's scenes written for a looooong time._

 _Up next: Lots of realizations and lots of confessions ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

_Well, here you go! The final "real chapter!" Thank you to all those who stuck with me through this story, even when I didn't update for two months! It's meant so much to me to see all the reviews and your engagement with this story! It's been so fun to do some creative writing after years without it! Let me know what you think of the final installment!_

* * *

On Sunday afternoon after the ball, a puffy-eyed Anne was sitting in the orchard behind Patty's Place with her diary and a pen, thinking deeply about her future.

There had been quite a bit crying over the past few days as she had come to the realization that—especially after the events of the ball—she would not be able to remain close friends with Gilbert. If he was going to have a successful marriage with Christine, he couldn't have a best friend who still secretly loved him and kept forgetting herself when he was around. It was too painful for her, and Christine clearly didn't approve of their closeness as had been patently obvious when she interrupted their dance.

Still, as hard as she tried, she couldn't imagine a future without him. Once she moved on from her romantic feelings, perhaps then they could be friends again. Then again, she couldn't quite imagine doing that either, but it was worth a try.

When Phil found her there, lying under one of the larger apple trees, she was intensely scribbling her thoughts on to the page in a rather stream-of-consciousness style.

Anne only looked up when Phil touched her shoulder. "Honey, you've been out here all day. Don't you want to come in and eat something? You've been rather melancholy lately."

"I know. I'm sorry," she sighed, sitting up to face Phil.

"Don't be sorry. We just would like to get a better idea of what's going on with you, so we can help," Phil said with a gentle smile.

Anne looked at Phil and realized that it was now pointless to keep her feelings a secret anymore. "I…," she sighed before continuing, "I'm in love with Gil."

Phil did not look as surprised as Anne expected her too and asked, "Why aren't you more shocked?"

"Well, I'm surprised you admitted it, but we all know you two have been in love for a long time. But, I don't understand why that is making you sad."

Anne rolled her eyes at having to deal with this for the millionth time. "Because he is proposing to Christine."

Phil's jaw dropped. "But how? When?"

Anne sighed and fell back against a tree. "They met at the Graduation Ball in May. She started writing him when we were back in Avonlea, and they have been spending a lot of time together over the summer while he's been here."

"Well, that doesn't mean he's proposing," said Phil logically, trying to take in all this new information at once.

"When I was in Avonlea, I saw a letter he sent to his parents, saying that he needed his grandmother's ring because he finally realized he could propose to her."

"Goodness, Darling, I'm so sorry. We just assumed that he was just spending time with her because of Ronald…We—I never would have teased you so much about it if I had known."

Phil hugged Anne and gave her a sympathetic look, but Anne just smiled sadly. "Please don't feel bad. I never told any of you about it."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Well, I've tried to remain friends with him, but it's so difficult to be close to him without any hope of ever being anything more. I don't think I can do it, and I need to tell him that."

"That you can't be friends anymore?" Phil asked incredulously.

Anne tried to open her mouth but could only nod as tears came once again. She buried her head in Phil's shoulder until she could speak. "It will be so difficult, but it will have to happen eventually. Married men are just not close with single women—especially women who are in love with them!"

Phil gave her a sympathetic look. "I can't imagine a world where you two aren't friends. It's been the one constant in the time I've known you both."

"He's been in my life since I came to Avonlea. And, aside from the slate incident, he's always been on my side, rooting for me in every way," she said with a sad smile.

Phil took a deep breath. "I'm sorry...I don't know what to say—I was so sure he was in love with you. Everyone was," she said shaking her head in disbelief.

Anne shook her head, "I thought so too at times, but there's nothing I can do about it now."

"When are you going to talk to him?"

"I suppose Tuesday—after our British literature class…Oh, God, how am I to do this?" Anne moaned, putting her face in her hands.

"I honestly don't know, Honey; but, you'll get through this like you always have. And, we'll always be here for you no matter what," Phil said, squeezing her hand.

* * *

The following day Johnathan paid a visit to Gilbert's boarding house to hear what happened after he and Anne had danced at the ball. And, much to Johnathan's chagrin, Gilbert was completely forlorn at the situation.

"Come on, Blythe. Now, you're just being ridiculous! There's no way that Anne could have fallen in love with a fellow she just met on Friday. Have you talked to her at all?" Johnathan said, leaning backwards on Gilbert's desk chair.

"Well, no," Gilbert said, flopping back on his bed. "I've stopped by all of her regular spots, but she hasn't been there. She wasn't in church yesterday, and no one was home when I paid a call to Patty's Place last night."

"Okay, well, then don't jump to any conclusions. There are dozens of reasons you might not be able to reach her besides Roy. I understand why you're stressed—really—but I feel like so much of this uncertainty could be dispelled if you just calm down!"

Gilbert knew Johnathan was frustrated with him. He was frustrated with himself, but Gilbert had always been uncomfortable with ambiguity. Unlike school, there was no rubric or formula for love. He could not simply plug in the numbers or translate a phrase to work out whether his love was unrequited or not.

"Yeah, I know. I think I sh—" Gilbert's last word was cut off by a knock at the door.

"Gil! Your mail's here!" his hall-mate called.

Rolling off the bed, he dragged himself to the door to take his mail. "Thanks, Michael," he murmured before lying back on the bed and shuffling though his letters.

Johnathan had only started lecturing him again about his lovesickness when Gilbert bolted upright, ripping open one of the envelopes in the stack.

"What? What is it?" Johnathan asked, moving to look over Gilbert's shoulder.

"I can't believe I forgot! My mother sent me letter last week, chastising me for not proposing to Anne, and I corrected her and—"

He cut himself off as his eyes started frantically scanning the page.

 _…Anne saw your request for the ring on accident! She's the one who told us that you were planning to marry Christine. She told us all about the time you were spending with her family and how you two really hit it off at some ball back in May. We were shocked but had no reason to think she was wrong._

 _She seemed devastated, so we didn't talk about it with her anymore. I'm so sorry, Dear. I wish we had known more, and this might have been prevented…_

"Blythe," Johnathan said in shock, grabbing Gilbert's shoulder.

Gilbert dropped the letter on his lap—his mind rapidly processing the contents of his mother's letter. Anne thought he had an understanding with Christine! So much finally made sense! Why she had avoided him even when she didn't seem like she wanted to. Why she was so uncomfortable with his proximity at times. Why she kept asking about Christine in general.

"She thinks you're in love with Christine," Johnathan said, dumbstruck.

"I know."

All of the tears she had shed and the self-doubt she had been experiencing!

"She was devastated by that knowledge."

"I know."

Yet, she had remained so devoted to him in spite of it all. Still managing to make him laugh despite her depression. Kissing him on the cheek! Telling him she loved him!

"She loves you."

Gilbert paused, staring straight ahead, almost in a trance. "She does."

Johnathan jumped up and whooped, pulling Gilbert up with him. He embraced Gilbert and slapped him on the shoulders. "Come on, Blythe! She loves you!…What's wrong?"

Gilbert was torn between joy and despair. "She thinks I don't love her. She's been suffering all summer, taking care of my family and thinking that I don't love her…"

Johnathan put his hands on Gilbert's shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "Look, Blythe, I know it's not worth it to logic with you when it comes to Anne, but I'm begging you. Stop feeling guilty! Stop worrying about all the misunderstandings! Find her and talk to her! You do no one any favors by running around, feeling sorry about what you two didn't know didn't know! So, get out there before I slap you!"

Gilbert stared at Johnathan, who had never been that aggressive before, but understood that his friend was right. He needed to find Anne, and luckily the best person to help him do that would be in his next class.

* * *

Gilbert rushed to his honors mathematics class hoping to speak to Phil before class, but by the time he had arrived, all the students were seated and the lecture had begun. In spite of the distraction it made, Gilbert made his way to sit in the front row so that he could attempt to get Phil's attention.

Hardly bothering to pay attention to the lecture at all, Gilbert simply stared at Phil until she looked at him. To his surprise, she just glared at him. _God, what did I do now?_

Unbothered by the professor's droning voice, he thought back to his recent interactions with Phil. He had met her date at the ball—nice fellow—Jo something. He didn't comment the color of dress like he had once before, which had earned him a week of passive aggressive treatment.

Phil didn't look at him for the rest of the class, and once class was dismissed, she swiftly exited the hall without looking back when he called her name. He had to run to catch up with her in the courtyard. Grabbing her hand, he pleaded with her, "Phil, please talk to me."

"What?" she snapped, stopping to look at him.

"What is your problem with me? What did I do to deserve this? You were just fine talking to me on Friday night!" Gilbert said, his temper rising.

"Well, Friday night I didn't know that you were going to propose to Christine Stuart!" she all but yelled.

"Agh! Not you too!" Gilbert cried, rubbing his temples. "I don't know how people I have to say it to! I never have, do not, and never will want to marry Christine. In fact, I told her as much Friday night!

"I want to marry Anne. I've only ever been in love with Anne, and only this morning I discovered that she has this absurd idea in her head for the last three months that I want to marry another woman! All I want to do is talk to her, but I cannot find her. And, I think that if I continue to walk around with this ring in my pocket, I'm going to go mad!" he said exasperatedly, pulling the little velvet pouch out of his pocket and gesturing with it.

Phil's jaw dropped, and there was a long pause before she shrieked and jumped up and down. "Oh, Gilbert! I knew you would come through! I just knew it! You have never so much as looked at another woman—I simply couldn't believe it!"

"Thank you! I honestly don't know how people could believe otherwise!" He sank back against a nearby tree and gave Phil an imploring look. "Please, Phil, I need to talk to Anne now. Where is she?"

"She's been sitting out in the orchard since she came back from her morning class. I'm sure she's there now."

The relief Gilbert felt was so intense he almost cried, but he took a deep breath, thanked Phil, and began to run to Patty's Place.

* * *

Anne was lying on her back staring at the clouds, thinking about topics to write her first official column on. Women's educational achievement? Why children shouldn't have to work? How to treat society's newcomers?

There were so many topics to choose from, and she had to turn it into a cohesive statement by next week. It seemed near impossible when she had absolutely no motivation to do anything.

"Anne?"

At the sound of his voice, she bolted up from her position. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she suddenly couldn't find the words to speak.

"We need to talk," he said firmly, coming to sit in front of her.

Anne timidly nodded her head in agreement, trying desperately to gather the strength to tell him what she needed to tell him.

"I think there's been a lot of—" he began, but Anne cut him off.

"Gil, I need to tell you something, but I won't be able to tell you if you speak first. So, please don't speak until I'm finished."

She chanced a look at him then, and he stopped, waiting for her to continue.

She looked down at the ground where his shoes were crossed in front of her and began to tangle her fingers in the grass lying between them. "I know I've been difficult and over-emotional, and hard to read these past few months; and I apologize for that. I've wanted to tell you why for so long, but I didn't think I could tell you without making us both unhappy. But, in keeping the real reason from you, I have hurt both of us—perhaps myself most of all." Her voice had sped up to an unsustainable speed at this point, and she had to take a deep breath before continuing.

"You see—uh," her focus on the grass in front of her became more intense, and she found herself glaring at it. "You see, I came to realize that I did not love you merely as a friend but that I loved you in a romantic sense."

She heard him inhale quickly and carried on without pause. "And, I know that you are with Christine—I've figured out that much."

"Anne," he said softly.

Without looking up at him, she held her hand up to stop him, "Don't interrupt! Please! I have to say this!"

Hearing no further objection from him, she continued—humiliation gathering in the pit of her stomach. "I didn't want to abandon you as a friend just because you found someone to love, but it was hellish to feel so inadequate next to her and to feel…like I was losing my best friend to someone I couldn't compare to.

"And, I know that you would never think of it like that, and I know that I have wonderful qualities too that are different from Christine's. But, in spite of that, I realized on Friday night that I will never be able to move on from my feelings if we continue spending time together. I don't want to be a reason Christine gets angry with you. I don't want to lose you permanently either. I sincerely hope that we can be friendly again someday, but I don't know if we can remain friends without hurting us both."

Tears began streaming down her face; and drawing her knees to herself, she began to cry into her lap. She only looked up when she felt his warm hand on one of hers.

"Can I speak now?" he said with a gentle smile.

She pursed her lips and nodded, barely looking at him, bracing herself for the world's kindest and most insufferable rejection.

"Anne, I frankly don't know where to begin, but I think the best place to start is that I am not proposing to Christine."

Her eyes widened, and she finally looked him in the eye—not daring to speak.

"Christine is engaged. She has been engaged—since before we met her. I have never been attracted to Christine. In fact, I find her rather self-absorbed and tiring which is why I told her that I didn't want to spend time with her anymore on Friday at the ball."

Anne's mind was going a mile a minute. She tried thinking back on the last three months to all of her interactions with Christine and Gilbert, but she couldn't. All she could process was that she was experiencing profound joy and relief that shook her to the core.

He shifted forward to take both her hands and look her in the eye, smiling. "I think the next thing I should address is your supposed inadequacy. I simply must inform you that you are the most singular, incredible woman I have ever met."

She closed her eyes and felt two tear fall from the corner of each eye, feeling warmth fill her body. She felt the heat from his hands as he cupped her face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. And, she leaned into his hands, as he touched his forehead to hers.

She opened her eyes and begged her heart to slow down so she could hear his next words.

"And, I think the final objection I have to make to your statement is that I have only loved one woman in my life. She is my very best friend and closest companion. And, I have no intent to ever dissolve our friendship. In fact, I hope to never be parted from her again."

She began to tremble, and he pulled himself away from her face just enough so he could see the joyous tears streaming from her eyes.

"Anne Shirley," he said; his voice barely a whisper. "I love you more than words can describe. Will you marry me?"

She couldn't hold back anymore and began sobbing. Through her tears, she began laughing. "Yes! Yes!" she said, nodding incredulously as he began laughing with her.

Gilbert wiped away her tears with his thumbs and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anne, this feels so strange to ask, but may I kiss you?"

Anne didn't even respond but launched herself at him, toppling him to the ground and kissing him with all the passion she had repressed over the past three months.

Once Gilbert had recovered from the shock of her kiss, he responded in kind, running his hands through her now-loosened hair and kissing her jaw, face, and neck.

Anne couldn't remember a moment in her life happier than this one. Feeling the sudden urge to see his face, she broke away from their kiss and—still lying on top of him—rose up on her hands to look in his eyes.

The light that shone from his face was radiant, and he looked almost drunk on happiness. "I am scandalously in love with you, Gilbert Blythe."

He laughed joyously and let his head collapse on the ground. "I gathered that from the way you attacked me so indecorously!"

She shot him an imperious smile and began to roll off of him. "Well, if you are too scandalized, Mr. Blythe; I will just have too—"

"Oh, no you don't," he said, rolling with her to hover over her. "I take it all back," he said, kissing her again.

After remaining blissfully occupied for several moments, Anne began laughing against his kisses.

"Now, what's so funny?" Gilbert asked, breaking away from her lips and lying back on the ground next to her.

Anne turned her head toward his and blushed, biting her bottom lip. "It's just that…I thought it would be strange to kiss my best friend, but it's been the most natural thing in the world."

"Well, I for one didn't," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb, and laughed gently. "I would almost be offended you thought it would be strange if I wasn't so pleased that you imagined it at all!"

Anne giggled. "Not imagining it was the difficult part. You kept appearing in my dreams at the most inconvenient times, you miscreant!"

"Well, I won't complain," he said with a triumphant smirk. "My dreams of you have generally been quite pleasant."

She smiled and leaned in to press her lips to his once more. "It's strange to think that you have dreamt of me as I have dreamt of you. I would have all these dreams of us married, and they were so lovely, and it hurt to think of them not coming true—to think that you couldn't see me that way."

"Well, I did—for many years. But, when did you realize you loved me? I'm trying to understand the events of the past few months, and I simply cannot understand how you or anyone else thought I could have ever been in love with Christine. I was always so afraid I was being very obvious in my affection!"

Anne blushed and scooted closer to him to lean her head against his shoulder. "Maybe you were, but I was quite ignorant of it even when everyone else wasn't," she laughed. "I first started to realize that I loved you when I found out you wouldn't be coming back to Avonlea for the summer. I began to think about what would happen when we wouldn't see each other every day. I began to imagine that you would find a girl to marry, and then we met Christine. She made me feel so insignificant, and it just made sense to me that someone as amazing as you would fall in love with someone like her. Then, you mentioned her in your letters, and I saw you talking with Ronald at the port, and it all made sense to me."

He kissed the top of her head. "Well, I didn't. She was vain and snobbish and tried to flirt with me behind her fiancé's back. We didn't have similar values, and she only liked me in spite of my background. You are the exact opposite. You're humble and kind and intelligent and loyal and generous—and most of all you make me happy."

Anne placed her hand on his chest and sighed. "I still can't believe that we're going to be married."

"Speaking of," he said, sitting up with a grin on his face, "I think you should have this."

He pulled a small pouch out of his pocket and opened it to reveal a beautiful little pearl ring which he slipped on to her finger. "It was my grandmother's, and I've been waiting for years until I could give it to you."

He took her hand, turned it over looking at the ring. She smiled at the reverent look on his face.

"I wish I had something to give you to mark our engagement, Dearest," she mused stroking his chin.

"The fact that you called me 'dearest' instead of 'miscreant' or 'scoundrel' is enough for me!"

They both laughed before she kissed him again. She pulled away and looked in to his eyes. "Well, my dearest scoundrel, shall we inform the troops?"

He pulled his arms tighter around her and shook his head. "Soon. I need to savor the feel of you in my arms just a little while longer."

* * *

Once the shadows had begun to lengthen and the crickets began to chirp, Gilbert stood up and helped his beloved off the ground, pulling her in for one last sweet kiss before taking her hand and walking to Patty's Place.

He found himself more at peace than he had been in months, having spent the past few hours discussing all of his misunderstandings with Anne. So much made sense once she explained her side of it, and she was all too happy to make up for each misunderstanding with love and affection.

It was actually surprising to see how affectionate she had been only in the few hours since they confessed their love. Her hand was always in his, and the only time she would take her head off of his shoulder was when she leaned up to kiss him. She insisted on tracing all the lines of his hands and running her fingers over the contours of his lips. _It is truly intoxicating to be loved by Anne,_ he thought.

The joy was all the greater when they had the opportunity to share their joy with the girls' at Patty's Place. Phil, of course, had told the other girls about her earlier encounter with Gilbert, but they were no less joyous having expected the news.

Gilbert blushed when Stella made a comment about Anne's redder-than-usual lips in front of Aunt Jimsie, and Priscilla joked that Gilbert would finally be able to relax for the first time in years. And, most importantly, Anne had the most joyful look on her face—one which made Gilbert's heart melt.

Eventually, they made it to Johnathan's boarding house where Johnathan shared a long list of all the times Gilbert was too lovesick to work, much to Gilbert's chagrin and Anne's amusement. After Johnathan had gone back upstairs to his room, Gilbert and Anne stayed downstairs in order to pen letters to their respective parents.

"I do hope that nothing will remain awkward when I see your parents again. They really did not know how to respond to me after I told them about Christine."

"Yes, thank you again for that, Darling," he said, rolling his eyes. "I received an irate letter from my mother telling me that I was absolutely _insane_ if I didn't want you for a bride. And, several lines about how I had disappointed them with my choice.

"But, I wouldn't worry about any of that because my parents may love you even more than they love me."

Anne laughed and took his hand above the table. "I'm sure that's not true, but I do think they love me for you."

"Quite right," he said with bright eyes. "Now, shall we post these?"

"Lead the way, future husband." She gave him a coquettish look, making him nearly trip over his own feet.

* * *

The streets of Kingsport were quiet as the pair made their way to the post office. They purposely took side streets to extend the length of their walk. "I've been thinking all this evening," he said, breaking the silence. "And, I wish that I would have talked about this with you when we were back in Avonlea. Then, maybe we could have avoided all of this pain and heartbreak, and we could have had more time together."

"I don't know," she reflected, "I think I may have needed this time to come to terms with who I am and who I am without you and who you are in my life."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "What do you mean?"

"When I thought you couldn't love me back, I really didn't like myself. I found all the things that were wrong with me and fixated on them. But, when I came to terms with the idea of living a life without you, it was painful, but I had to think about living a life alone. And, it wasn't terrible. I realized how smart I was and grew to appreciate all the other people in my life who love and care about me. Of course I'm happy that I will get to spend the rest of my life with you—it's like a dream come true—but I think I can better accept that you love me now.

"I can see what you see in me," she continued, "and that makes me feel like I can fly."

Gilbert stopped and pulled her to him, tipping her face up to kiss her. "You always find a way to surprise me, Shirley."

"I try," she said with a little smirk.

"Plus, I guess it wouldn't have helped adding three extra months to a nearly five year wait time to get married."

"What?" Anne exclaimed.

Gilbert was alarmed at Anne's response, and not wanting to create any more misunderstandings between them, he explained. "I'm going to medical school. I couldn't support a family during that time, and I can't think of a school that would allow a married woman to teach."

Anne went quiet, and Gilbert recognized her "thinking look" on her place. As they turned on to an alleyway, he recognized it as the alley where Anne had befriended those three men back in April. Wanting desperately to break the silence, he joked, "We're back on that same alley behind the butcher's shop. Are you going to do anything crazy this time?"

"Perhaps," Anne said with a thoughtful expression, and Gilbert laughed uneasily.

"What would you say if I propose we get married in June after our graduation?"

Gilbert looked at her with a confused expression. "Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Yes," she said slowly, "no school would hired a married teacher, but I'm sure a newspaper has few qualms about hiring a married columnist. No one has to know who I am, and I can work from home."

Gilbert's jaw dropped as his mind began working over the possibility of Anne's plan.

"I could be making 50 to 60 dollars a month. Potentially more with syndication," she said practically.

Gilbert remained silence as he ticked boxes off of an imaginary check list for their future.

"Gil?" Anne asked, her voice concerned.

"Anne, Darling, of course, I will accept anything that gets us married sooner!" He embraced her and twirled her around before setting her down and kissing her deeply.

She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him dreamily. "In just over 21 months, I will be Anne Blythe."

"And, I will be the happiest man in the world," he said genuinely before his smile turned teasing. "You better get started crocheting doilies then."

She burst out laughing then, shoving him which he expertly dodged. Even in her pretend anger, Anne couldn't keep the smile off her face as Gilbert took off running down the street. As she chased him, she started to laugh, thinking that all was as it should be. Wherever he went from now on, the she would follow and vice versa— _even if it was just to the post office_.

As they stopped in front of the post office, she smiled, recalling the verse she had said years before—now, more appropriate than ever. "God's in his heaven, and all's right with the world."

* * *

 _Up next: a sort of epilogue and lots of fluff..._

 _So, I've mentioned this before, but I plan to make a sequel to this story. However, I have so many ideas that are so different in style and theme, so I have decided to make my sequel a series of one-shots that exist in my little AU. The Epilogue will be a sort of preview of this!_

 _Also, this story has become so different to what I first planned for it, and I often wanted to go back and change things. Now that the story's finished, I think I'll go and update it, fixing little grammatical and formatting errors on the way for posterity!_

 _Anyway, thanks so much and let me know what you would like to see a one-shot of in the sequel-I might just end up writing it!_

 _Much love to all,_

 _Cristina_


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